Howling Ghosts
by brutalfreeze
Summary: F!Rogue!Hawke/Fenris. SPOILERS! Rated T for violence/sexual situations/language. What happens after Hawke abandons the position of viscount in Kirkwall? Varric mentions only her love interest remains at her side. This is their journey.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **_This takes place after the events in DAII in which-SPOILERS-my rogue Hawke has romanced Fenris, Anders was let go (and I am not going to kill him in my fic . I refuse to), and Varric is captured by the Seekers. This fic is very spoiler heavy._

_Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one._

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><p>His life had begun in the Tevinter Imperium. If one counted a 'life' as consisting only of constant agony, torture, humiliation, and indentured servitude. No, true life is the one that he led now beside his Champion, it was merely the memories that had begun in that foul place.<p>

Just how long that life would last now remained to be seen.

And now, facing the _dokkal_, he realized just how wrong he was in assuming there could be nothing worse than a blood mage from Tevinter.

Where had it all gone wrong?


	2. Chapter 1

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em>Long Way Home<em>

Fenris's eyes, the color of a pale, naked spring grass, mirrored the hot springs' strange glittering glow that filled the cave. Perhaps they were lyrium springs, a touch of magic infused in the waters that made their depths glow an eerie blue. He'd never had any tolerance for magic or the users that harnessed it, but for nature he would allow this one little miracle in the midst of a never-ending cycle of violence and pain resulting from the power-hungry mages.

"Oh, if only I could put one of these hot pools on a ship. Just look at the effect it's having on my tits!" Isabela's brassy voice bounced around the stalactites and stalagmites from the adjoined cave.

He supposed this is something that most men would instantly respond to—and Sebastian, Bodahn, and even the simple-minded Sandal indeed laughed—but Fenris found himself sneering at Isabela's feigned ignorance. Just as most humans and mages, she knew exactly the effect she had on others and used it to her advantage.

The voices faded away to dull background noise as he dared a glance over at the pale, gleaming body suspended in the pool beside the one he occupied. The steamy water matted Elesee's silvery-blond hair to her head and presented a darker color as it floated weightlessly around her face like leaves adorning a flower.

How a woman seemingly made out of bent and refracting light could disappear in the blink of an eye was beyond him. Perhaps it was the blood from her apostate father coursing through her veins that made her skills a touch on the magical side.

It was as well, Fenris suffered the same fate.

Despite all Elesee's skills, she still had paper-thin scars that shone her testament to many hard-won battles all throughout the sunset peach of her skin. He wanted to kiss each and every one and soothe all the pain she had known in her life, just as she constantly soothed away his.

He wanted to say this, or something—anything—to her. This woman had been with and behind him for several years now and had been the only he could truly call an ally, a friend, and eventually, twice, lover.

This was the first quiet moment they had since they'd run from her Viscount position in Kirkwall after the rebellion of the Circles.

That was a lie. They had several moments, flashes really, in which he could have said something. More years on the run than he could count now, facing countless enemies and darkspawn, facing down a Qunari Arashok, and he couldn't find the courage to merely say a few words to the woman that had stolen his heart?

If he did say anything, would she hear him through the muffle of the water? Surely a former-mercenary and assassin would be able to hear his smoky voice through the mere film of water. But would their conversation truly be private with the echoes bouncing between the different sections of the caves?

This was childish. He could and _would _speak to her. He wasn't afraid…

"Elesee," he blurted out, unable to stand it any longer, "I—Isabela!"

Fenris made out a flash of tan buttocks disappearing in an elegant arc into his pool before the water splashed him in the face. The hot droplets stung his eyes and dripped down the white bangs that framed his face.

Isabela's lithe form underwater was a pale streak shooting towards his pelvis with an outstretched hand. Before she could make any contact, he leaped to the side and caught her frail wrist in his calloused and scarred fingers. Her face appeared above the water the next moment, a coy smile making her dark eyes black in shadow.

"Looks like _someone _is enjoying the view," the former piratess purred demurely, stroking her free hand down her rather large breasts. "If I had known that _both _your swords are two-handed—"

"Not another word to slip out of those lips," he growled, his dark brows lowering intently.

"Well there is something I'd like to slip _in_ my lips. And I'm not talking about the lips on my face, either," Isabela teased. "Well, maybe the lips on my face, too."

She was beyond irritating, like a Mabari pup yapping away at his heels.

"Your… lips have been slipped in one too many times for my liking, Isabela. Sometimes by more than one poor lad at a time. Yours is not a ship I would ever sail on."

"So if it's not the view on this side that has your mast raised, that means—" and her dark eyes flitted over to the twin pool.

But Elesee was nowhere in sight. Even her armor, blades, and shortbow had disappeared from beside the pool.

"Ah, there, see? I knew you always wanted sail my seas."

Fenris released Isabela abruptly, having briefly forgotten her presence. Her teeth gleamed like jewels as she smiled at him while looming dangerously close. Before she could corner him any further, he hoisted himself out of the water.

This time he made sure to keep his backside to her.

Her ensuing whistle was sharp and teasing. "Love this view myself" trailed after Fenris as he ran through the maze of the cave tunnels towards where they had setup a fire. He paused to slip on his attire. The thick leathers slid over his scars like sandpaper. He had to grip the cave wall to keep from crying out.

Despite the agonizing pain, he placed one foot in front of the other and continued on his path. Each step felt like a swift kick to the gut and as though his former slaver was in the process of drawing a thousand razor blades over each vein slowly and carefully.

The light cascaded through the opening at the top of the cave and mashed with the oranges and reds from the campfire. Condensation from the rain in the skylight dripped into the fire and hissed like darkspawn spirits were trapped there. Blankets made a circle around the pit and what meager belongings the troupe had brought with them.

But Elesee was not there.

His gaze fell to the cave entrance where he could see sheets of rain and, beyond that, the feint outline of a shadow moving amongst the trees.

He tried to make his presence known as he approached. To sneak upon a rogue quietly was to sign your death.

The cool rain was a balm against the scars on his arms and hands. His gloves were tucked away in the satchel kept strapped to his back, beneath his sword. He had no use for them unless in a battle. And this was a different kind of war, won without weapons.

When he was within a few paces, Elesee's eyes flicked to his face briefly, a sky of white with a quick lightning strike of cobalt and yellow. He stood behind her and watched her thin, curved dragon bone blade—which she lovingly called _Wicked Fang_—move like a whisper as it sliced easily through roots. She grabbed out the fleshy root hearts and captured the flowers' salves in a small vial reserved for potion-making.

Her face remained a neutral blank that wounded him more than he thought such a simple thing could.

Elesee stood upright, facing the trees away from him. She announced, "There was an elfroot patch we had passed two days ago. It's about fifty stride paces into the forest. Any help would be appreciated, if you desire to give it."

The Champion-turned-viscount-now-fugitive did not wait for her lover's response. Not that she ever expected one. Fenris admired her casual embrace of his quiet demeanor. She would always ask, but never demanded.

The elfroot patch was indeed abundant. He detested potions, and health potions were at the top of the list. They could restore what was previously something he sought to destroy.

Besides that, he preferred the pain and suffering that came with living through an injury, a reminder he was alive and feeling. He would treat his wounds by natural devices only. Not that an injury was a frequent occurrence. Mostly he could just phase through a blade or an arrow and come out unharmed. But he knew Elesee could not, so he helped her gather the elfroot without a regret or complaint.

The flower faces had to have a particular shade of red streaks to reach the greatest potency; she had informed him long ago. He only gave her the deepest crimson elfroot he could find.

They gathered in companionable silence for some time. Neither breached the foot gap between them, though both physically ached to do so.

At long last, Elesee took a breath and turned to face Fenris.

"I left so you could have privacy with Isabela," she explained, though he had not asked.

Her eyes were trained on the root in her fist. Fenris wished for just a moment she would meet his gaze so he could convey to her just how he felt about her. Not Isabela, nor Aveline, the blood mage Merrill, not all the whores of Kirkwall. It had always been her and only her.

But she would not meet his intent stare.

"I have no need for private moments with anyone but you… and possibly that bastard Danarius," Fenris insisted. "If he were to escape death again, I'd gladly kill him until there was no hope for life ever returning to the scraps his body would be in. May the darkspawn keep him in the Fade."

He never wavered in looking from Elesee's eyes, although she would not meet his gaze. Years before, he had once found their pallor unnerving: pure indigo lanced with ribbons of bright daffolion yellow. Her silver-dusted lashes fluttered briefly before she grinned, a quick lifting of the corner of her mouth.

"Agreed. I just… only thought—because…. You haven't been wearing your wrist cuff," Elesee pointed out and her eyes inspected the barren spot on his left wrist.

It took him a moment to realize she meant the red wristband marked with her family crest. Elesee had never asked Fenris to adorn the symbolic wrist cuff, but he had never had a problem with showing his affection openly. He had grudgingly locked it away as soon as they had abandoned Kirkwall as a means of avoiding notice. Information could be sold to hunters and Chantry seekers and a detail like that would stand out.

He explained this and the relief resulting was evident in her stance, though she tried not to show it in her face. Fenris knew better, had studied her movements.

"Just because I cannot wear your mark does not mean it is no longer there. Your marks are just as strong and powerful as the ones Danarius inflicted upon me. Yours, however, are considerably less painful. Pleasant, even."

Then she finally unleashed her gaze onto his. As always, he was shocked by her intensity and sincerity.

"Fenris," Elesee sighed. "I don't want to _own _you. If you wish to leave, I will ask you but once to stay. If you say no, I will not press the matter. Your life is your own. I merely wish to be a part in it."

"I appreciate the thought, truly. However, you are gravely wrong if you think you are a mere piece of my life. You are a vast mountain in a land of hills. My heart is yours; so, in a way, you do own me. The deepest part of me that I willingly give away. To question my intent to stay is incomprehensible. I am still here with no intentions of leaving and no desire to do so," Fenris proclaimed emphatically. Then, quietly added, "_Especially_ not for another woman."

The shine in her eyes held the same dancing flashes of the gleam of her blades in battle.

In that moment, almost as if a witch nearby had lifted her spell, the rain that had been unforgiving in drenching the land for three long days and nights merely stopped. There was no trickling to a halt, only vanishing the same way Elesee stealthed.

Elesee looked up in wonder. Just as her lips parted to comment on the oddity of such a thing, he crushed his mouth against hers.

She responded to his spark with an ignited passion that flared immediately. Her hands tangled in his hair, holding him desperately to her as her mouth opened to the exploration of his tongue. His hand traveled to the back of her head, reveling briefly in the silky softness of her hair, and held her there as he took her lips captive.

Just as the kiss had begun abruptly, Fenris pulled back in a dash. His mouth felt swollen with the force of the kiss, where her teeth had grazed. He kept a hand locked in hers, unable to stop touching her at least in this small form.

Her pupils kept undulating until finally resuming a normal state. When he was certain the cloud of desire had eased, he rested his forehead against hers in a meeting of tan and sunset peach, white on silver-blond.

"What's wrong? Is it the lyrium scars? Do they hurt?" Elesee asked gently and loosened her grip on his hand. He clenched her tiny framed fingers in his much larger grip, not willing to let her go.

"No, no. Nothing like that. I just—I need to tell you something."

"Whenever you're ready." She waited patiently, her eyes searching his.

The words were dredged up from somewhere deep in the confines of his memory from _before._ A ceremonial exchange of words whose meaning she undoubtedly would not understand.

He placed their adjoined hands over his steadfast beating heart.

_"in sethenaran virmenden virnasu_

_endasin shiral melanal_

_uthen aradin elvahten dinen_

_ardarel'na emma la emma ardarel'ma_

_uthen helavelen arlatha allam uth _

_ma'arlathona uth dasenuthen_

_ma arsalin aravel, _Elesee Hawke."

It was a pledge, a promise, a vow of fealty and lasting love. Of lives forever entwined. He would not speak the language of the Dalish unless given a significant cause. Elesee, his champion, his companion, his mate... yes, she was more than enough of a reason.

The ceremonial words, however, would be incomplete unless she finished the second half of the vow. She would be as tied to him as he was to her when that transpired. One day, when she was ready, they would complete the ceremony in its entirety. He was sure of it.

"It's beautiful. Is it poetry?" she asked through a smile. "You never struck me as one to recite poetry to women."

"I suppose in a way it can be poetry. It means I am the bow to your string. Together, we work in harmony. Separately we are incomplete. The meaning is similar."

"You know I can tell when you are lying," she reminded him.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a slightly uneven smile. He knew. "It means: _ma'arlath uth dasenuthen_. 'I love you in all ways always.'"

"Fenris," she breathed his name sweetly against his face. When she said it like that, the harsh memories tied to the origin of his name fell into the Fade. "Marlath oo danten?"

He laughed a dark, rich laugh that he knew gave her goose bumps. She blushed but never took her gaze from his.

She did love him. And he loved her. This was something he would never be able to deny.

When they lay amidst the elfroot, the red tinted their armor. And then, as he made love to her, their skin.

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><p><strong>Author's Note Re-visited:<strong>

The translation of the oath Fenris makes is:

"In the Great Wake,  
>We shall take the path together<br>through the journey of time  
>Long sleep will not make<br>our roots untwine  
>Lasting as the Creators<br>my breath shall be yours  
>and yours mine<br>I shall love you in all ways always  
>This I vow to you, Elesee Hawke."<p> 


	3. Chapter 2

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.  
><em>

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><p><em>A New Path<em>

When she awoke, Elesee's eyes were immediately drawn to the rise and fall of Fenris's chest. The lyrium scars were pronounced against the smooth apricot skin. The feint magical blue of lyrium made the raised skin silvery in appearance. Her fingertips traced the center of his chest where the scars conjoined in a thick mass. His resulting sharp intake of breath within his sleep and the twitch of his leg made the rogue withdraw her hand from the tender skin.

She stroked a stray tendril of snow-white hair out of his eyes while murmuring, "It's all right."

The crease in his brow smoothed once more and he resumed his peaceful slumber.

A branch rustled unnaturally a few yards overhead from an overlook. Without hesitation, Elesee had _Screaming Wind _whistling through the air with dead-on accuracy towards the sound. _Wicked Fang _was held in her main hand, cocked in a defensive stance above Fenris. She couldn't and wouldn't stealth with Fenris sleeping in plain view but she would destroy anyone who came within fifty paces of harming him.

But when she flicked her gaze towards him, he had gone quiet with one outstretched hand crawling towards the hilt of his sword. He'd woken after all.

_Screaming Wind's _cry as it sliced through the air on its return to its owner made Elesee's hand reach out from instinct. The boomerang dagger's handle landed expertly in her grip. The familiarity of it in her offhand was reassuring. The fact that no blood covered the S-shaped blade was not.

"_This _is certainly not how I expected to find you two. Finally got to explore your roots, did you, Fenris?" Isabela's voice tinkled down from an overhanging tree branch from the overlook.

Fenris did not lower his sword. In fact, he had a rather murderous gleam in his eye but still had the mind to cover his most intimate parts with a nearby piece of armor.

"Just so you know," Isabela informed the Champion, "you nearly took my damn head off."

There was a rather spacious gap missing from the tree above the pirate's head.

"I'm sorry I missed," Elesee shot back.

"You didn't. I ducked just in time for a piece of my head wrap to go missing. You owe me for that one, Hawke." Her amber gaze swiveled to target Fenris. "You could point that sword a little lower—"

Fenris glared and moved into an attack stance.

"Isabela…" Elesee warned.

"Sorry, sorry. I can't help it. You're a lucky woman, Hawke. It's not often you find an elf with such impressive… talents. I'll just return to the others and tell Aveline—"

"Aveline and Orana have returned?" Elesee asked.

"For the love of Andraste, turn around so I can dress!" Fenris snarled at the leering seductress making suggestive gestures with the tree branch.

"Don't worry, you two! Neither of you have something I haven't seen before."

"If you don't turn around _right now, _I swear I _will_ skewer you to that tree, you bloody sea wench!"

"Ugh, fine. I wonder why Danarius didn't name you something more appropriate like 'Broody' or 'Has-Anger-Problems."

With that, Isabela rolled her eyes and gracefully leapt down from the branch into an elegant rolling somersault before catching herself in a wide-legged stance with one hand resting on the ground. She rose and clucked her tongue when Fenris raised his sword overhead; then, finally, turned to face the opposite direction.

"Were you both really planning on fighting me while naked?" Isabela called over her shoulder as the two hurried to dress. "I'd _happily _take the two of you on at once."

Elesee shook her head at Fenris when he took a silent step in Isabela's direction. He grunted in frustration and slid his gloves in place.

Just as Elesee began to strap the last blade sheath to her back, Fenris's hands were there, securing the buckles in place. His hand lingered briefly on her bare shoulder, the touch encompassing a message of all the emotions he wished to convey regarding their intimate encounter. Elesee responded with a smile that warmed her from the core and a brief meeting of fingertips to the back of his hand. His eyes loomed hotly on her face.

"If you two are done making eyes at one another, can we please hurry it along? Aveline has news."

"How did you know we weren't still naked?" Elesee asked as they began their traipse to the caves. "I don't remember telling you to turn back around."

"I peeked. What? I couldn't help just one last wistful glance."

Before Isabela, or even Elesee, had time to react, Fenris's foot kicked out to the side. Catching Isabela unawares, she landed face-first in a heaping pile of _halla _droppings.

Elesee didn't think she had seen Fenris laugh so much the entire time she had known him. By the time they returned to the caves, his laughter still echoed in her ears.

"Greetings, Mistress."

Orana curtsied as Hawke and Fenris joined the group standing outside the caves.

Elesee sighed. Her manservant had been offered freedom but had yet to take her up on the opportunity. But Sandal adored her, Bodahn was gentle with her, and Fenris had affection for her that had bordered on brotherly. As a result, Elesee saw no problems with her remaining in the party as long as she stayed on as an equal. That feat had yet to be accomplished, even with Fenris's aide.

"Orana, you're no longer a servant," Fenris reminded the elf woman.

Orana's elven eyes widened before she shook her head in disbelief. "You continue to provide me with food and shelter. I gladly service you, messere."

Isabela chuckled. Fenris shot a death glare in her rather putrid-smelling direction.

Finally with a respite in conversation, Elesee turned to one of her longest standing allies. She clasped Aveline's forearm and the gesture was warmly returned.

"Hawke. Fenris." Aveline nodded to each.

"Might I say you look a particular shade of extraordinary in that dress, Aveline," Sebastian stated in a smooth voice.

Aveline blushed a red so deep the line between her roots and skin were lost. Though the compliment was well-warranted; standing next to her husband, Donnic, in the dress she'd disguised herself in, her appearance had become less gaunt and much more feminine.

"All right," Isabela cut in impatiently. "I love small talk as much as the next pirate, but you have news, Aveline. Have you gotten my—_a _ship?"

The blush immediately disappeared from Aveline's face as she once more returned to business. "Yes, the ship has been secured. Though I had to pay for the dock master's silence, plus additional costs he had added towards the ship after he saw my purse. Nevertheless, the ship is ours and now we just have to make our next move."

"Yes, just what exactly _is _our next move?" Sebastian wondered. The archer's arms were folded over his lean, muscled chest.

"Like to know that meself, messere," Bodahn added. "We was hoping to go east to Orlais so Sandal can do his enchanting for the Empress."

Fenris remained quiet but Elesee was sure she could feel his eyes regarding her curiously. His smoldering, green-eyed stare had enough power in order to make her skin as hot as if she'd stepped into a flamespell. She practically burned with all the attention the remaining members of her troupe now pointed at her.

"I have given this a great amount of thought," the Champion announced, turning her gaze from one member to the next. Her indigo stared was pointed at Fenris as she said, "I know some of you will not want to make this journey with me. Every major party in all of Thedas is hot on our trail. Our pictures, faces, descriptions are known by assassins, vagabonds, and the Chantry alike. Even the Divine herself could be after us at this point…

"So, that leaves us with only one remaining option: we must leave the known lands of Thedas. We must travel south, beyond the Arbor Wilds. I plan on beseeching Flemeth for aide once we arrive. Surely, when we are near her territory, she will seek us out."

"You plan on enlisting the aid of a witch?" Fenris replied hotly. His lyrium markings flared to life, the blue bathing the immediate area in an azure flame. "We need no help from magic users any longer. I spent more than enough time with the last two, and now you want, once more, to become indebted to an ancient mage?"

"I, too, have my doubts about that strange woman. Remember that the last time you owed her a favor," Aveline prompted, her thin lips set in a tight line, "the witch tricked us. I don't like this, Hawke."

"We don't have any other options," Elesee sighed. She knew Fenris would react this way. It had been a hard decision, but necessary. She desperately wanted to keep her lover safe, at all costs. "Anywhere else—Ferelden, Orlais, Tevinter, Antiva, even Par Valas—we _will _be noticed. You've said so yourself, Fenris: You don't exactly blend in.

"And how many other troupes do you know containing such a strange band of allies? We're an unlikely bunch. And that sets us apart. We need to go somewhere far, where no one will ever be able to recognize us and carry our descriptions to waiting ears."

"I see no point in asking Flemeth for assistance," Fenris pressed, his tone growing cooler by the second. Frost practically dripped from his lips. "We've managed this far without magical help. Merrill has long since been returned to the Dalish. And that fool, Anders, was captured by the Templars after blowing up the Chantry. _Good riddance_. We can make this journey ourselves, _unassisted_."

"And what exactly is beyond the Arbor Wilds? Do you know, Hawke? I've heard that's where the darkspawn continually spew from," Donnic added, a calming hand on his wife's shoulder.

"Will we be venturing into the heart of the dragon itself?" Sebastian wondered, one sleek brow raised high. "The Archdemon was defeated but I have heard rumors there are still nests of dragons near the lands of ash and fire."

Isabela unsheathed a hidden knife between her breasts. "Excellent! I've been wanting to get my hands on a good dragonbone blade like the one Hawke has."

Elesee turned to Bodahn, Sandal, and Olana. All had remained silent thus far. "How do you feel about this?"

"I had feared you might make a choice like this," the dwarven merchant sighed. Elesee felt her heart stutter in a short moment of loss at the words she knew would come. "Don't see much other option for you, though. Still, I'd had hope. But… if this is your wish, I suppose this is as good a time as any for my boy, Sandal, and me to begin that trip to Orlais."

"Enchantment?" Sandal asked Bodahn in his simple way.

"Yes, my boy, Orlais is where the Empress herself wishes to have your Enchantment skills put to work. What do you say to that?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal cried out happily and rubbed his wide dwarven fingers over the smooth face of a runic stone. "It's shiny."

"I'm sorry, Mistress Hawke, Master Fenris. It has been an honor." The stout dwarf turned towards the elf woman at least two heads taller than he. Olana's eyes were shiny with unshed tears as she regarded him. "You can come with us, if you'd like. Sandal and I could use a good lute player to attract the customers. We can try to find your Papa, too, if that'd be something you'd like to do."

"Truly?" Olana uttered, one dainty hand pressed against her breast.

"Absolutely," Bodahn insisted. "Long as it's all right with Mistress Hawke, of course."

Olana turned on heel and strode towards Elesee with purpose in her step that had never truly been in place before. She bowed her head before her former Mistress, her arms spanned wide in a gesture of pleading.

"Messeres, I wish to travel to Orlais with Master Bodahn and Master Sandal. Do I have your permission?"

Elesee's fair brow knitted together in confusion. "Will you not come with us by sea? The trip will be far easier."

Orana looked to Bodahn for his answer. Sandal shifted nervously and began to pick his nose.

"We dwarves don't oft travel by boat. 'Tis strange enough bein' above ground without the world constantly in a state of.. movement. Shift happens and we don't got the right bodies for such a thing, bein' used to rock and all.

"There are more sales to be had by land in any case. Though your offer is much obliged. You always were an excellent Keep, Messere. Always lookin' after your faithful servants."

Fenris took a step towards the Orana. Wistful sorrow and pride mixed amongst his features and stance. Elesee could only imagine he saw Orana's transformation from slave into her own master as a glimmer of himself. "I wish you safety and peace in your journey. May the Maker watch over you on your path."

"You will be missed. Thank you for all your services, Orana. I hope you find your Papa," Elesee agreed gently. She hugged the elven woman briefly, which caught her by surprise. Orana smiled once before darting off back into the caves after Bodahn and Sandal, unaware of the coin purse Elesee had deftly placed in her belt line. Fenris shot her an approving smile.

Sebastian was the first to speak up after the three had departed. "So, where to first, Hawke?"

"First," Elesee declared, "we set sail to the Heartlands."

Thus, the journey into uncharted territories had begun.


	4. Chapter 3

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

* * *

><p><em>Windward<em>

Isabela had transformed once she saw the boat: a beautiful, longdeck Orlesian merchant vessel. The ship strained against its anchor, ready to set sail.

"Don't touch the ship before I check it over first," she snapped at the others before climbing aboard.

Her hands stroked along the intricate gold filigree detail that matched the golden insignia threaded into the billowing red sails. She caressed the ship as if it were an old lover with which she had been reunited.

Fenris watched as the piratess checked each line of rope carefully, even retying some of the knots along the way.

"If I'd known," he said, "that _this _was all it would take to shut her up, I would have purchased a boat for her long ago." They were the first words he had uttered since the short argument near the caves.

Aveline agreed with a short, "Indeed."

"This is perfect," Isabela shouted once she'd completed her inspection. "A little smaller than I'd like, but we will get there in no time. Orlesians are experts in boat crafting."

"I'm aware," Sebastian stated, eyeing the insignia warily.

"Get on, Hawke… Ha! You don't know how long I've wanted to say that."

Elesee shook her head and joined as the party shuffled onto the deck. Isabela prattled on about the speed of an Orlesian vessel, her tone implying a different meaning.

Fenris disappeared below decks to stow his bag of belongings while Elesee stared openly until he had secured the cover board's latch in place. She was troubled by his inability to acknowledge her since her announcement of her plans. He had been _too _quiet. Far more than usual.

"Little do you know, Donnic, your wife chose this ship with dishonorable intentions!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Aveline huffed while still managing to look unruffled.

"There's only three beds!" Isabela laughed at everyone's stunned silence. Her attitude depicted a woman having been given two treats instead of just one. "_Two_ to a bed." The pirate's eyes shot to 'Sebastian the Incorruptible,' as she had referred to him on occasion, in a predatory manner.

"I think that I will be fine here. Top deck. Praying."

"I don't mind a little alone time with my wife before we are swallowed up by dragons or darkspawn or witches living in the wild." Donnic shrugged although Aveline remained quiet, the red of her cheeks giving away her dishonorable intentions.

"I think I'll share mine with Hawke." Isabela grinned in her direction as she hoisted up the anchor. "Leave the boys to play with themselves, since they like to do that anyway. We women can have our fun."

Sebastian placed a long-fingered hand on Hawke's lean shoulder and turned her to his direction. His jewel blue eyes were sincere as he advised, "You may want to see to Fenris, Hawke. He's been brooding ever since we departed the caves. Well, more than the usual amount of brooding.

"You know how he feels about maleficarum. Maker knows I, too, do not like the idea of siding with an apostate but I know that it will be necessary for your quest to continue.."

"You use the word 'your' as if this is not your quest as well. Are you planning on leaving, Sebastian?"

The noble archer regarded her seriously, his normally kind face drawn inward. "Once we reach the Heartland, I plan to enlist Isabela's help in returning to Starkhaven and reclaiming my throne. It's time this mess gets sorted out."

"And Isabela…" Elesee felt as if she had begun to lose each member of her family all over again. The limbs of her family tree being snipped away, one after the other. Even Isabela, whom she had come to barely tolerate, even possibly begun to like, had been a constant staple; a break in all the humorless situations. And Sebastian, noble and kind-hearted always able to give advice with his piercing, all-seeing eyes...

She feared this disease would grow among the party until she had none save herself.

"I am truly sorry, Elesee." Sebastian's apology was spoken out of sincerity and his eyes were tortured. "But my people need me and I have no wish to continue running from the Chantry. In return for the service you rendered by killing the murderers that took my family's lives, I will not utter a single word of your whereabouts; I vow it in front of the Maker Himself. I will try to dissuade the Divine from seeking you out but I cannot guarantee her Grace will be lenient now that the Chantry is near-ruin.

"I have no doubt you will be safe once you are out of the hand's reach. Wherever that may take you. You and Fenris are strong, capable fighters. I will pray Andraste and the Maker shall watch over your travels."

x

The ship jerked from side-to-side. How one managed to live like this, Fenris had no idea. The earth had never once shifted in this unnatural way. And so Fenris had deemed this form of travel archaic, barbaric, a torture in itself.

The ship lurched and groaned. He gripped the ornate guardrail lining the side of the netted bed. Biting Maker! The noises a ship made! How would he ever find a moment's sleep in this hellish square room?

If Elesee were beside him—no, he would not think that way.

The Champion had yet to find and speak to him. The elven warrior told himself that this is what he wanted. That he did not _want _her to seek him out. Not after the proposition she had made.

A witch! Elesee knew the way he felt about maleficarum. She knew it best of all. Had watched him take the heart of his blood mage master. Knowing this, perhaps that is why she had looked at him when she had said '_I know some of you will not want to make this journey with me_.'

He would not—damn it all! Why did the ship keep lurching so sharply? He would not apologize for reacting as he had but did regret the way he had spoken to Elesee. Especially after all that had transpired between the two of them just the night before.

Fenris sighed as he finally decided his mind. He would convince Elesee that he had taken no issue with the idea of leaving known lands, but they would only _speak _with the witch _without_ requesting help.

No, the issue itself was not the _where_, it was the _who_. He would travel to the ends of the world with, and for, Hawke. Even if he had to slaughter the ancient witch to make that happen. Perhaps he only needed to remind her of that, before her decision was set in stone.

The door flew open.

"We're under attack!" Sebastian cried. The archer's face and sleeked-back hair were blood-spattered.

Just as the words had been spoken, Fenris's keen elven ears picked out the sounds of battle and of a woman crying out in pain. Stupid to have worried about such trivial things while Elesee remained in danger from the threat of the Seekers, the Circles, and any other vagrant looking for bounty.

Fear slashed away any remaining dark thoughts. He had to get to her. To secure her safety.

Time blurred as his heart raced, the lyrium scars buzzing like rivers of sulfur. One moment he gripped the hilt of his sword as they launched up the steps. In the next, his sword's wide blade had been brought in an upwards slash through three Rivaini marauders. Blood soaked his armor, sprayed crimson arcs through the air.

He tried to pinpoint Elesee's location through the mass of fighting bodies.

The sound of Sebastian's bow _thnk-_ing and the whisper of his arrows were behind him.

He could hear Isabela's voice straining for someone to "Help me cut the rope! Get the grapples off!"

The Rivaini were everywhere, pouring off a swift ship grappled to the deck. Some bodies were tossed through the air, above the swarm, and landed with a splash.

The elf sent a silent prayer to the Maker, Andraste, any Creator—_anyone_ with any sort of power—

she was not already lost to the water.

He saw Elesee's boomerang blade _Screaming Wind_ lying nearby, coated in blood, and felt a shock of panic twist his gut.

White-hot pain broke his moment of freedom. He turned on the woman that had sunk a knife hilt-deep into his ribs. The lyrium burst to life, making the knife wound feel like a paper-cut, as he returned the favor to the wench. He thrust a fist through her ribs, felt the strange sensation of her innards surrounding his searing flesh while the magic did its work and destroyed. His attacker's eyes rolled as she fell in a heap.

Fenris wheeled back around to the starboard, his body fully immersed in the inferno of the lyrium. Teeth bared, he threw himself at the nearest throng of attackers. The assault downed two of the five.

He stabbed a man in the eyes with his sharp fingered gloves without phasing his arm. One eyeball rolled off the deck.

A burst of full-phasing momentarily blinded the two that remained standing. They cried out and stabbed at the air. Fenris evaded their daggers and severed both of their heads with one fell swoop of his bastard sword.

The last group of Rivaini were at the bow.

Fenris could see Aveline's tall frame, flashes of her redhair as she bashed her shield against the face of one of the surrounding men. Donnic was the powerarm behind her defensive stance. Together they were unbeatable. The assaulters, with their numbers cut thin, were no match and were felled easily.

The Guard Captain's face drained of color as she collapsed with the last Rivaini.

"Isabella get the potions—" Donnic ordered.

"Almost there."

It was then, as Aveline fainted and Donnic fell to one knee, Fenris saw Elesee sprawled behind Aveline's shield. The shield shifted away at Donnic's touch and revealed a poison-green arrow sticking straight out of the middle of her chest.


	5. Chapter 4

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em><span>Uninvited<span>_

She knew this wasn't right. There was something she should be remembering. Something very important.

But as she floated along in ecstasy, she didn't _care_.

Her bones felt like liquid. Every hair stood on end. For the first time, she could breathe the gentle breeze that flowed over her skin like a silk sheet without anything weighing her down.

The caress of the sky was lyrium injected into her veins, each breeze a magical burst of song and color she didn't even know existed. The sun suspended mid-air, beaming light from its warm face. The light was a beacon, guiding her, straight into the heart of its fire. She could feel the heat slowly climbing when the sun drew closer.

…something—some_one _she needed to remember….

Her attention kept wandering back to the sea on the slow climb to the sun. Something about the crystalline green water struck her as familiar.

The idea slipped from her mind as if it had grasped a fish too late.

x

"Is it working?"

Sebastian looked over at the elf gravely as his words disrupted any furiously paced prayers to the Maker.

He had no words to give that would satisfy the warrior's sorrow. If the Maker were to take the Champion, it would be His will. The former slave was not one willing to tolerate such words when it came to severe matters, as his faith was a fickle thing.

But the grieving would not see the look of pity on Sebastian's face for his eyes had never left his beloved's face.

The archer had never seen a man so grateful for a cursed talent than he in the moment when his lyrium-laced fingers withdrew the arrow carefully from within Hawke's cold, still body. His gaze was drawn to the blood lingering on the elf's fingertips, soaked into gritty black lines under his nails.

x

"I…" Isabela's voice broke. She had to swallow back mouthfuls of air, a feeble attempt to dry the saltwater nested in the corners of her eyes. "This isn't a poison I've ever encountered. They had to have known who we were in order to know what poisons we are familiar with. What boat we were travelling on. That damned dock master…"

The fury of the Maker's fire burned in green flames from Fenris's eyes as he scathed Isabela with a seething glare. Even her bones rattled with dread from the blast.

"I said: 'Is the potion working?'"

Her insides ashy with regret, she choked out a whimpered, "no."

x

Fenris forgot how to breathe. His head bowed under the weight of the words as he wilted against the woman he loved, even as she lay dying right beside him.

x

Aveline's fear flooded through her until the impact of it sent her knees shaking. The feeling was one of drinking a cold drink and feeling the water pump in slow circles as it wound its way through. Except this… this was a cold that was all over.

Donnic's arms were not enough to contain the storm riding through her body. She paced back and forth, a hand resting on her womb.

Her voice was taut with intensity. "We need to do something, Donnic. I cannot stand sitting here doing _nothing_ while Hawke is in the other room…" and she nearly had let the word escape her lips. A word she would not utter into being, lest the Maker hear her and make it so.

Deep within the confines of her heart, she could whisper the word _dead_. Although it seemed to echo and form and release itself into the air, a shade that howled and taunted.

Her husband looked at her knowingly, a shared knowledge between two like souls. Almost as if the word itself had fallen from her heart and into the air then into his ears.

They had been too late to save her.

x

What did hours matter? Days?

Elesee's lips were blue and not a single breath had escaped. Lips that he had kissed. Lips from which words were said, or shouted, or cried, or whispered, or moaned.

Every second without his beloved was another piece of his heart falling into the bottom of the ocean.

How could he have known that there were other forms of torture in this world, ones that did not involve chains and whips?

Danarius had never touched this part of him: his spirit. It had always been there, waiting in defiant silence, then bursting forth to life beneath her fingertips when Elesee had, for the first time, assured him he was not alone. When she had taught him how to read, to write, to stand as a free man, to begin life anew, to love.

Each second felt like another lyrium scar carved, burrowed, burned into his flesh.

He formed a protective cocoon around her empty body. He would be the armor to her flesh. He would be the bond that held her body and spirit together, Maker be damned, and he would not let her leave him alone again.

x

Sebastian sat top deck, his back pressed to the mast, as he scouted the surrounding sea. Isabela had strung a banner for help from above the sail, but it had yet to yield any results. As he shot a glance up at the flag, he had noticed that, for a moment, it had appeared as if there was something swimming in the sky—

A dragon with scales the size of Sebastian's hands circled through the air and cried the terrible scream of a thousand dying men. The red beast was a slash of blood spinning through the air.

There was a button on the inside of his wrist, blended in with the black leather. The intricate interworking of thread and piping filled the fingertips of the gloves with a shiny white resin. One stroke down the bowstring to give it a coat.

As he nocked the first arrow, he whispered, "Maker, guide my arrows true."

Within a half-second, the wind, the travelling speed of the dragon and the arc of the arrow as it would travel to its destination had all been factored into his quick calculations. He could almost _feel _the flight path of the arrow, where he would need to strike, and let his instincts and training guide the rest.

After finding a satisfactory trajectory, the bowstring made an audible snap as it launched the arrow. The added stamina elixir gave the arrow such a forceful boost, a gaping hole was ripped in the cloud through which it passed.

But the arrow did not hit its mark.

Almost is if the dragon _knew _what would be coming, it banked at the absolute last second.

The arrow was lost into the atmosphere without a single nick. That was the only shot he would have time to get off before the dragon would be on him.

The beast dove in a winding circle straight down, directly towards the ship and Sebastian, where he could only look on in surprised terror. His vision filled with the sight of deadly, yellow eyes, a throat filled with hissing flames before he shut his eyes against the impact and had braced himself for the final snap of teeth and bone.

"Open your eyes, human," a raspy voice demanded.

To his astonishment, instead of a dragon, a severe old woman stood before him adorned in burgundy and black dragon scales not dissimilar to the dragon that had almost made a meal of him. He was afraid if he stared into the witch's shadowed and cold, yellow eyes too long, he would see only a vast wealth of endless time that neither began nor ended, only existed and would fall into that bottomless pit.

The mage had wispy, white hair which fluttered in the wind, except the bits styled back to look identically like the dragon's, then tapered off with matching scarlet ties.

Powerful magic emanated from her ancient body in waves that nearly crushed the breath from his lungs. He had never encountered a magic this powerful before.

Sebastian's knuckles were white as he bellowed, "Who are you?"

Her answering smile was cold and calculating, formed by two thin dark-stained lips. "I am Flemeth. I suggest you take me to the girl before it is too late."


	6. Chapter 5

___**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.___

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><p><em>Questioning Beliefs<em>

Sebastian cast a glance behind his shoulder, unsure of leaving the witch to the others, as he hurried off to tell Aveline and Donnic of the uninvited guest.

Fenris had not left Elesee's side in the three days since her last breath. He did not look up when Flemeth entered the room but her presence was inimitable. Magic had filled the chamber like too many clothes stuffed into a chest.

Isabela seemed unsurprised at the witch's sudden appearance. She folded her arms over her breasts, pressing the fleshy mounds together in a provocative way that was mostly a comfortable familiarity to soothe her nerves. "My, Flemeth, you're looking rather… horny. Finally get around to making a potion to appear more youthful?"

Flemeth's eyes narrowed in what could be construed as a smile, a simulation rather than a genuine show of appreciating humor.

"Something of that nature. If only I could have gotten a hold of your blood for the potion, pretty little sea-maid." Isabela's rebounding horror caused the witch's chalky laugh to move stiffly along the thick burgundy scales of the robe gathered at her throat. "Ah, however, I did not come here for your humor. That girl—" she extended one of her clawed gloves towards Elesee "—needs to live. I am here to remove the toxin."

And, for the first time in days, Fenris felt a spark of life return to his own empty body. He stiffened beside his mate.

With a voice barely audible against the grind of his vocal chords rubbed raw with the lack of drink, he asked, "You can save her?" Though he would not look the creature in the face. He would not let anyone see his desperation as carved and defined as the scars.

Yellow twinkled coyly in the witch's scrutiny. She reveled in the chaos such short-lived creatures dwelled in as she toyed with his patience before responding slowly, "Yes… But it _will _come with a price."

This was a rule of magic he was familiar with. Magic, a creature of greed, never gave freely without taking something of equal or greater value.

Flemeth was no demon or mage but _other_, and her quick tongue was mercurial in its intent, appearing to be of pure intention but harvesting none of the sort.

Not long ago he had argued with Elesee regarding this same issue and the irony left a bitter taste of chagrin. Too late, he had realized his mistake in berating her for her choice in beseeching Flemeth's aide. He should have realized Elesee would only do such a thing out of necessity. He had been rash, his hate for apostates clouding his judgment and trust in her.

Maybe Anders _had _been right in saying Elesee needed someone more open-minded.

He stared at Elesee's features and, for the thousandth time, imagined her lashes parting, opening like a flower in springtime to reveal the cerulean warmth that could level him with a single glance. She would smile at him and say, "Don't look so sad, it's unbecoming of you." And he would force a smile and she would laugh while teasing him that he looked more a wolf than elf, wondering vaguely if he was in fact a werewolf, but that couldn't be because he couldn't even grow a beard or chest hair. And then he would really smile, all the while knowing that her lips would press like the softest of petals to his. Her kiss, more exorbitant than of all wines he had ever tasted, a delicacy he could never tire of, a thing he would never take advantage of for the rest of his days.

Yes, he would do anything to have that again.

"Whatever the terms are, I accept."

"No, don't!" Aveline's cry was too late as she crashed into the room with Sebastian and Donnic in tow. "Don't do it, Fenris."

"It is done," the elf told her tiredly. His shadowed eyes were full of haunted memories that made Aveline shudder.

The true wolf lying in wait came in the form of an ancient woman, her smile toothy as she informed Fenris, "The terms are not yours to accept, drenuth ira tinuth."

The feathered pauldrons on his shoulders and the branched markings running up his neck flashed as he snarled at the Tevinter slur. Flemeth ignored the rebuttal.

Aveline could only hold her husband's hand in fear as the witch turned her undivided attention her way.

"You stand to lose the world's salvation if you do not choose this path. Her destiny is tied with the peace of all Thedas. If she is to fall now, everything will be askew with chaos. Your children and their children's children will suffer the fate of the world.

"But, to save her and to restore balance, you must lose that which you seek to protect above all. A life…" Claws greedily twitched towards Aveline's middle as she growled out the last, "for a life."

They could have well been a stone relief with the stillness that was the room, each unmoving, unblinking. All staring in horror at Aveline's shocked face, mouth still hanging open, one hand curled protectively over the fluttering in her stomach as the child within her womb readjusted its limbs. Donnic's hand was slick with sweat, his face the truest expression of pure terror.

"Aveline, _please_. I beg of you," Fenris choked out, the agony of guilt in brutal war with the dread of losing Elesee forever. "I have never asked you for anything—"

"You—you're asking too much. I _cannot _give up my baby—my child! You cannot possibly expect this, Fenris." Aveline's chin wobbled defiantly before she pressed her face into her palms, unleashing a torrent of wails. Her voice was garbled as she shook her head over and over, not willing to accept that this was truly happening. "He—I was going to name him after Wesley. I _can't_."

Donnic's eyebrows twisted into a knot as he placed a consoling hand on the curve of his wife's bent neck. Never before had he known a moment of torture. But now while looking at Fenris, he felt a kinsmanship he had never felt before.

He took a deep breath and, with tears in his eyes, muttered gently, "We…" He had to pause to regain his composure before continuing. Twice he opened his mouth to speak before clenching his jaw and pressing onward. "We will try again, Aveline."

"Donnic—no! You can't ask me to do this! This—" But Donnic had already turned his face away, unable to stand her pleading eyes any longer. He shook his head, willing the sorrow away of seeing her face, the face of a woman set afire.

Aveline, seeing the fight with her husband lost, turned to Flemeth. The Captain, leaving behind all her pride and abhorrence to malificar, dropped to her knees and clutched the hems of Flemeth's robes.

"Anything else, Flemeth, I beg of you. _Anything_."

The witch remained as cold as her reptilian scales as she hissed, "You have nothing else I desire."

x

Benoit du Lac sat his daughter down during one of their many sparring lessons. The welt on her back _felt _red and blistered, her heartbeat making the swelling rub against the rough cotton twill roughly. She pleaded over and over for her father to rub the salve from a healing potion over her skin but he would not.

"This is a very important lesson," her father instructed her.

The knight began to pace, the sun glinting against the bright strawberry of his hair. Benoit paused only when she whimpered. His gray eyes were hard as stone and just as unforgiving.

"Are you listening, Aveline?" her father's voice glistened over her given name without much notice, but she felt the lash of that word as if it were a wooden sword as well. With her chin held high, she sharply nodded once.

"Good. I will only say this to you once:

"You cannot always defend against everything. There are some wounds that will never heal. In war, there are casualties. You must be willing to accept this or the torment will follow you for the rest of your days."

The girl, so young at the time, could not see the pain saying this caused her father. The subtle nuances that came from age and experience and hard-fought battles with friends lost along the way. She only saw the man as spiteful, full of regret at having ever borned a daughter instead of a male to carry on his line.

And now, as the witch Flemeth drew the life of her son from within her womb in just one quick flick of her wrist, Aveline understood her father's words, could see her memory re-write itself as the realization registered. Some lessons had to be learned firsthand to truly be able to comprehend the meaning behind them.


	7. Chapter 6

___**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.___

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><p><em>Night Terrors<em>

Galactic purple swirls fought to recapture her attention from the bright, warm light as they twisted and coalesced into a pitch black mass in the shape of a robed woman. Something seemed so unnatural, so _wrong _about it in this place that she found herself being pulled towards that cold, empty black human form.

_What are you_?

What _I am is of no concern, as I am everywhere and nowhere at once. This is merely a small piece of myself. What is of importance is the _who. _I am your re-maker, if you will. _The creatures voice was alight with amusement as it spoke to her. _I have come to make you whole once again. Look around you. Where are you now, Child? _The form responded in a smoky growl that was ageless, neither male nor female. It had stung her sharply with a feeling of familiarity as if a dream stirring to life in later conversations, easily slipped back into its home in the subconscious after a moment of remembrance.

_You can't see?_

The creature laughed, but, to Elesee, sounded more like continuous huffing than an actual laugh. _I have seen more than one fickle human will see in her entire lifetime. What I do see is a girl that has yet to answer my question. I want to know what it is you see in this place, Girl._

Elesee gathered in her surroundings in one quick sweep. A field rich with lush greens and tall stalks of wheat with a sparse spattering of flowers interrupting the yellow. There was a quaint little straw-top cottage nestled into a hillside, smoke billowing from its chimney. The sky was flooded yellow sunlight, impossible to stare at too long. Green seawater winked in the distance beyond the fields, visible for only moments as the wheat shivered under the touch of wind.

The reply was simple as it easily came into forefront of her mind without any thought. _I am home. _

A gust of frigid air slapped against her face. _Think before you choose your answers, or your answers will choose your thoughts for you. _

_Most humans dub a house with a roof crafted by the hand of man and carved out of the lands thinned out from time a home. A home without memories, without life, is just a house. Here, there are no memories to be made as we are trapped within one. No life to be had where there is no future._

The shadow creature waited for her mind to grasp at its meaning while slipping between forms of darkness and the lilac-violet dance of light.

Elesee's hands parted the wheat stalks, feeling the resistant grass tug at her bare feet. She shuffled through the blades anyway, tugged them out of their earthen homes. The heads of the wheat tickled along her fingertips, the dry length rustling against her skin, as she walked to the edge of the wheat stalks.

Something was missing from this place. Just as the familiarity with the being, she felt a tug in her mind warning her against the oddities this place held. Was the sky _too _yellow? The light _too _bright? What was it that was wrong?

After having passed the wheat, she wound her way up a bluff overlooking the water, then decided to sit at the edge. The sea reflected the face of the sky and resulted in a pale green polished mirror.

_Yes._ The creature sounded pleased with her choice of view. _Go ahread, keep thinking on it._

…some_one _she should be remembering…

The green water ebbed against dark sand, reminding her of flecks of amber lost in green she had seen elsewhere. But where? What vexed her mind so?

_It is not the _what_, but the _who_ that is of importance_, the creature reminded her and Elesee could hear the smile in its sexless voice. The creature had threaded the bits of its own conversation throughout the short time they had been together until it had made a binding stitch and tied it off together with the knowledge of where exactly to place the needle. A creature that knew the future... What sort of creature had such power? Elesee was sure she never wanted to cross such a being.

The ground began to rumble as if a giant were throwing a tantrum nearby. Great plumes of dust powdered the plants and billowed into the air.

A giant fissure cracked the sea down its middle. Smaller rifts branched out to either side of the main line. The fissure groaned and stretched its wide mouth, swallowing earth and water. Light the color of pure, cloudless sky shone through the cracks.

The creature said nothing, nor did it react in any way. It only looked on impassively, as if to say: _the world is coming to an end? So what_. Not that Elesee could truly discern the creature's emotions at all, especially without even knowing if the being _had _any emotions.

The part in the earth stretched its fingers towards her quicker than she could react.

Elesee reached out to the creature for help a fraction of a second too late. Her bare toes skinned painfully against rock as she gripped the sides of the yawning earth desperately, struggling to hold onto the edge of the cliff as the world shifted and rattled her already weak grip on the shapeless, shuddering surface.

_Will you fall? _wondered the creature idly. _One does tend to just fall right out of dreams and memories, doesn't she? Or does it go: one falls in love? Flemeth does forget these mortal sayings from time to time. I had always thought it would be the alternate: falling in love to die in dreams, out of love to live in memories._

Didn't the creature see Elesee needed help, that she was on the brink of falling into one of the chasms splitting the earth in two? All the while spouting on about its dilemma with sayings.

She tried to call out for help but had forgotten how to scream as memory of voice returned.

Elesee's fingers clawed and clung as she fought to stay upright.

Her legs kicked against the earth, searching to grip the surface but the rock and dirt would not yield and crumbled away into the burning blue pits.

Then she forgot how to breathe with the return of memories of air. Burning began in her chest as her lungs fought against her all the while her fingers grew slick with sweat, the grip loosening one finger after the other. Stars blurred around the edge of her vision.

As the memory of touch returned, Elesee's body went limp while she continued the struggle to breathe. In her mind, she could only cry out over and over in pain and terror as the creature looked on. Her chest was on fire, had been lanced with a hot spike.

She plummeted straight into the heart of the bottomless rift. The light drew her into its embrace, the scar of the land as vivid as lyrium scars.

_…lyrium scars..._

_"Don't go."_

_...the intense, sharp sting of the scars as her hand wound around his wrist..._

_…the red of her robe against his calloused fingers as he shredded the cloth…_

_…exploring the grooves and curves of lyrium scars mounded atop an expanse of taut skin…_

_…shades and tints of green flecked with the tiniest arrays of amber. She was sure the Maker had taken the colors of his eyes and painted a forest…_

_...watching him under the veil of her silvered lashes as they traveled through the dank, vermin-infested streets of... Lowtown at night..._

_...his laughter a self-deprecating, short burst of emotion that sometimes surprised even himself. A moment of his happiness. It was enough to get her through the nights without him, as she waited patiently for him to be ready. She lived for these short little pearls of moments dangling on a thin wire, each a treasure she kept written down in her journal her father had given her long ago..._

_…the grief compounded a thousandfold when she had lost her mother to a madman, her brother to a vicious darkspawn, her sister to the Circle. But he was there to comfort her in her time of need, despite leaving, despite his own pain and suffering..._

That is when Elesee's memory returned in its entirety. She opened her arms and welcomed the plunge from the Fade.

X

A raw voice snarled, "Do not even think of laying a finger on her, Witch."

"Very well," came the exasperated reply. Flemeth. The creature of her nightmare. Elesee should have known the witch had something to do with this.

The pain in her chest had been removed entirely. She took three breaths, to be sure, before opening her eyes to look for him.

"Fenris?"


	8. Chapter 7

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em><em><span>Divided<span>  
><em>_

The indescribable elation filled his very core upon her first intake of breath, growing and climbing in scale until reaching an aching, shattering point that left his fingers shaking.

Overshadowing him stood a bedraggled Flemeth. Fenris had watched as the witch had hidden behind a glowing cocoon of magic and then as she had come out triumphant but a little worse for wear. The lines around her eyes were a little more clearly defined than before. The hollows in her cheeks just that much steeper. Only now she wore an impenetrable, unsmiling mask. Or perhaps it was the other way around and _this _was her true front.

No matter, she had saved Elesee.

For the first time in his collective memory, Fenris had at least a small amount of gratitude towards magic. Though the cost was far more than he would have ever wished, he could not walk backwards now.

Fenris grasped for the right words to tell the old mage. "Your… assistance is appreciated, witch."

Dismissing the words with a gesture, Flemeth looked over the onyx feathers at her shoulders as she said, "Have the girl find me when you are finished… reuniting."

The door clicked shut.

To stave off his impatience for her to awake, Fenris returned to Elesee's bedside and watched her face intently.

When Elesee's lids parted, the azure orbs were all he could see. The fan of thick blond lashes swept down once before her pupils narrowed, focused on his wide-eyed stare.

Then, when she said his name, he could not catch his breath with the explosions of disbelief running through him like discharges of electricity.

Unable to grasp the notion that she was truly alive and speaking, he pressed his fingertips lightly to her still faintly blue lips. They were warm and soft. Small, sweet breaths dampened his skin.

"Hawke… Elesee." His voice was just a whisper as his lips barely moving over the words. Then, incredulously, "You are alive."

Elesee's smile was the sun as its rays pierced the thick storm clouds of his grief.

He would never relieve this moment from his memory, not for all his days.

He was in awe of the emotions that this woman brought out in him. Was this what it meant to need? Fenris had thought need was a term deserved only for necessities such as food, water, and sleep. But this woman… no, he could not exist without her in the world.

He needed her desperately in a way words could not express.

Before she could utter another word, his lips had recaptured the stolen breath from her lips with a kiss that communicated all his worry and sorrow. Then, as her lips melded to his, the emotions dissipated and were replaced by the insurmountable love and elation.

How had it been he had walked away from Elesee so long ago; from this kiss? Never again.

The veins of yellow and blue were swallowed up by her expanded pupils, her lids half-closed as she recuperated from the intensity of the kiss. Fenris's hands framed her face as he soaked her very existence into all of his senses.

"I thought I had lost you." He spoke it in a reverent whisper as was his way when baring his heart for her to witness.

Elesee held his gaze, soft and melting, as she nudged her cheek into his hand. "You'll never lose me. I promised you long ago. I intend on keeping promises to the man I love."

Words were not enough to form a proper response.

It was as well. There are far more intimate ways to disclose feelings.

x

Awaiting the reappearance of Hawke, the remnants of the troupe stood top deck. At the emergence of Fenris and Elesee, Isabela snorted.

"Took you long enough, Hawke."

Elesee met Isabela's gaze with a coy one of her own in place. And said nothing.

"These three are naught for excitement," the wench sighed, shifting her weight on one foot. "I've offered plenty of means of entertainment, which they've all turned down."

"Stripping down, then dancing in my lap serves no form of entertainment for a man of the Maker," Sebastian pointed out.

"Gambling hardly seems appropriate," Donnic added harshly. His eyes were strained as his fists clenched at his sides.

The champion turned to the witch in an attempt to diffuse the tension, albeit without knowing what the tension stemmed from. "I suppose I should thank you."

"No need to thank me. I have what I came for. But," Flemeth intoned, her crowned head inclined towards a sneering Isabela, "I am told you have a request. I can't imagine what else you would require of your savior." The latter derisive in tone.

Elesee's stance changed and her eyebrows straightened as she returned to business. The shift was made without thought. Her hands idly went to the pouch reserved for poison vials. She nodded once sharply. "The Circles seek revenge. There are Chantry seekers, thugs, Antivans all after my head, my will, or my purse. I saw the distributions of the posters. All of known Thedas is after us for one reason or another. I wish to have safe passage through your lands into southern Thedas."

The ocean and air both seemed to pause at the same moment. The witch's hair drifted back into place behind the thorny crown. The last hair had settled before she spoke.

"You do realize that there have been no known travellers to successfully pass through my lands into the south, which is the heart of darkness itself." Although this was spoken as a possible means of warning, there was absolutely no inflection provided.

Fenris stirred beside Elesee but did not offer any input.

The champion nodded. "I know. We have no other choice. With the world nearly at war, things are only growing increasingly desperate and many believe I have the ability to dissolve the issues at hand. But I cannot. I do not hold all the answers. I am merely one woman with some talents and a quick tongue."

Isabela's laugh cut in.

"Shut up, whore," Donnic barked.

Appearing abashed, Isabela did remain quiet.

Hawke glanced back at an expectant Flemeth. "There is nowhere else to go where we will not be seen or recognized then returned to helm the war. Then, once more, I will be forced to make choices I am not willing to make. I was responsible for too many stolen innocent lives. I don't wish to travel that same path again."

Stepping closer to Elesee until they were nearly toe to toe, Flemeth agreed with an intensity that was unnerving. "Don't we all." The witch paced in an arc, stopped, then turned quickly on heel in a swish of thick robes. "If you are to do this, Elesee Hawke, I will need a favor."

The resulting snarl was inhuman and took Elesee completely by surprise. Donnic had his sword unsheathed and brandished towards the old woman. His gaze was wild as he locked down the witch in a deadly stare. "No more favors."

"Donnic!" Elesee gasped.

But Flemeth was unperturbed by the threat and did not even acknowledge Donnic's presence at all.

Sebastian grasped Donnic's forearm, staying his hand. "Is this what the Maker would wish upon Aveline? Two deaths in her family in one day? Think, man, before you take another step towards this… creature."

The rage faded from Donnic's eyes before he bowed his head in defeat from whatever emotions warred within. He sagged under the weight of his decision but Sebastian had one arm clapped around his shoulders.

One eyebrow perked, Elesee asked Fenris, "What does he mean _two _deaths?"

Eyes shielded behind the white curtain of hair, Fenris shook his head, unwilling to provide any answers.

Having grown impatient with the small interruption, Flemeth tapped her staff on the deck. "I have a letter I wish for you to give to a man named Tu'rin. You will meet him after you have arrived beyond the Divide."

"Beyond the Divide? Is this another trick?"

Exasperated, the witch replied, "Yes, Child, the magical divide between my land and the lands of southern Thedas. They are in place as much to keep things in as out." Murmured in afterthought: "…Though some have found other means of bypassing the Divide…"

Elesee's hands grew slick with sweat as she realized just how far the journey she would be undertaking went. "But I thought you had said there were none that had survived travelling through your lands. How is that possible? Wouldn't we have heard of a land beyond the Wilds?"

"There is no way to break the Divide unless I, or my daughters, make passage. The Divide is as much natural as it is magical. Where do you think the kossith came from? Simply appeared out of thin air bearing ships and the means to wage war as if they were magical creatures fallen from the skies? No, Child, they had to come from some place."

"They were supposed to have come from the east, beyond the Boerin sea," Fenris cut in with skepticism marring the words.

Flemeth cast a glance towards the elf, her eyes either betraying amusement or annoyance, Elesee could not place the exact origin. "That is what many think. That is what even the Qun have been taught to believe. But their scholars hold many secrets for the greater good of their people.

"Their true place of origin is beyond the Frozen Seas through which no pirate dares navigate. Beyond that the extended lands of fire from the west and the plains caught in the middle… But that is none of your concern.

"The people that currently live there have an… arrangement made with myself. They will read the letter and possibly offer you safety, or they will try to kill you. But at least it will be for the right reasons and not in the name of war."

Flemeth inclined her frail fingers to some unknown point. "Best you not ask many questions and take the offer. It is but a small favor in exchange for returning your life, but I do not think I need to remind you of that."

"What is justifiable in the reasoning behind killing a refugee?" Sebastian wondered. He still stood near Donnic and kept a watchful eye on him out of his periphery.

"Do you think the kossith fled from their lands for docile creatures? Nay, these are not a people that see reasoning. They are fearsome and wild, known for their whim to kill simply for existing in their realm. And you _will _be trespassing in their lands," Flemeth said as though it were of no concern one way or the other just what the people might intend to do with the troupe.

Fenris raised a black eyebrow into the tangle of his white bangs. "_Their_?"

"The nanvhenna."

Even more skeptical now than before, the elven warrior tried to pick meaning from the witch's empty words. "'People not of revenge?' What sort of elves are these?"

"Elves made to live in the lands of fire from which they originated." Clearly this was not a point Flemeth wanted to discuss any longer as her words were as icy as a winter storm. "My reach only extends to the end of the Wilds. Once you cross that land, you will truly be apart from all those looking for you. However, the journey will also take you beyond the reach of any of your loved ones staying behind."

Fenris turned his attention to Elesee. She could feel his probing stare on her face. Trying to remain strong, she said, "I understand. I will do what it takes."

"Very well. When you are ready, I await you in the Wilds." That being said, Flemeth twirled her bladed staff in one swooping motion. Magic was conjured from her hands and the staff. It burned in a rainbow of colors before swallowing her up.


	9. Chapter 8

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

* * *

><p><em><span>Sister of Thine Blood<span>_

Three days later, after they'd docked in a tiny village dubbed Niemeyer proudly displayed in a handwritten sign outside a fisherman's stall Elesee faced a stoic Aveline. The leather cowl drawn over the rogue's head to shadow her features mostly masked the worried expression written in her eyes.

"Do you want to look the other way when I loot that poorly hidden chest?" Elesee teased in an attempt to lighten Aveline's mood.

The Guard Captain glowered. "Go ahead, Hawke. Choose the unsavory path after all the sacrifices made in your name."

Ruddy cheeked, Aveline turned her face from Hawke before stalking away towards the heart of the small village. Donnic sighed, visually shook himself, and then went after his wife.

This had never happened before. Aveline's disapproval had always been only half-hearted. Elesee faltered, lock picks still in hand, as she was caught off-guard by the daggers her friend had thrown at her.

Isabela had withdrawn her own tools from a hidden pocket inside the shoulder of her tight tunic. "If you're not going to loot that chest then I will."

"Fine," Elesee said distractedly but Isabela had already dashed towards a pile of merchant goods haphazardly tossed in with fish and brandy barrels.

As if perfectly timed, Fenris and Sebastian joined the lone rogue in outfits Isabela had picked out and arranged. Immediately Elesee's worries over Aveline vanished as soon as she really took the time to look at the grumbling duo's appearances.

"If the Maker was to turn his face away, of all days, I would hope it would be today," Sebastian mumbled, disheartened.

"_Hmph_," Fenris grunted. His kohl-lined eyes were accented by a rather effeminate purple that made his green eyes radiate as he sulked. "At least your outfit is somewhat presentable. I look absolutely ridiculous."

"Presentable?" Sebastian argued. "I look like a nug farmer raised at the Blooming Rose!"

"At least you don't look like one of the 'special' whores Madam Lusine gives her best customers. The stories Varric has told... This isn't funny, Hawke!"

Despite her best intentions, Elesee could only barely maintain a rather huge grin from her face. She did her best to furrow her brows and pressed her lips together as she looked over the two.

Sebastian's lips were a disgusting shade that Elesee was sure Isabela had given as a means of degrading the poor princeling, made even more comical as he sneered at the doubled-over Champion and revealed a mouth full of lipstick-stained teeth. He had several layers of scars knotted together as a makeshift hood. The thick green bodice must have been meant to hold a woman's rather large bosom as it fit oddly on the archer's middle. The yellow and gray dress must have been something Isabela had looted off a corpse as it had the same material of a burlap sack, was torn at the hem, and stained a shade that didn't look at all similar to blood. Some sort of white substance…

Elesee mentioned to Sebastian, "I think that next time I will probably ask Donnic if he has something for you."

Fenris appeared taken aback, the bold green of his eyes making a more dramatic expression against the dark liner. "And for me?"

The elf must have been a subject of one of Isabela's twisted fantasies as his clothing was immaculate and appeared to have been tailored for the warrior's body.

A form fitting, black gown seemed almost… appropriate for the warrior as his form was lithe. The breast line was cut just so that only the scars on his neck were in view, but he wore a cloak that tied at the neck so even those were hidden. The cloak itself was rich, crushed forest green velvet that brought out the darker shades of Fenris's eyes, stark against the now-girlish white bangs. His lips were a simple rose that matched the blush on his high cheekbones and complimented his skin tone. Apparently he would allow all these things, but he would not stand in parting with his gloves or boots as he still wore those.

"You should consider dressing up like this more often," Elesee sputtered, the laugh nearly out. "You look… pretty."

The blush lining his sharp cheekbones darkened as he fumed. Now he looked like a blushing, fair maiden.

"So you _do _think I look like a nug farming whore!" Sebastian moaned.

That was it. Elesee could not contain it any longer. She burst into such high, side-splitting laughter that Isabela sought them out, lock picks in her mouth, some loot still half-hanging out of a bag. The pirate's "What?" added just that much to make Elesee's ribs start to hurt.

x

They made their way towards the torch-lit tavern, mostly unnoticed except a few bewildered villagers that did a double-take. One woman even going as far as gasping and telling her son to cover his eyes and recite a Chant to Andraste after eyeing Fenris and a winking Isabela.

The tavern was a dingy sprawl smelling of cheap ale and had only three rooms to its name.

The bartend was also the town mason—as it had declared on a posted note to the wall: MASON/BARTEND. YOUR DRINKS -or- YOUR ARMOR, YOU'LL BE SURE TO LEAVE BETTER OFF. He was a hulking beast of a man with white chops and a chest full of hair that would put both Donnic and Varric to shame.

He had a milky glass pitcher full of murky ale that smelled sour. He poured four glasses for the travelers.

"8 coppers," he grunted without much personality after thunking the glasses down in front of the guests.

He gave pause only when staring down Fenris and Sebastian from his beady eyes, but shrugged his wide shoulders after a moment's notice. Here was a man that turned a cheek to gossip and idle talk, without much of any kind of personality. Not the sort of bartend Elesee was used to, but it would suffice, given their circumstances.

Elesee reached for her pouch and rummaged through the coin. As she did so she caught the bartend staring openly at her breast. Fenris, too, had noticed the attentiveness of the drink supplier and had gripped the glass hard enough for a little crack to appear.

"You want the armor repaired, be 50 silvers. And 8 coppers. For the drinks."

Both Fenris and Elesee relaxed. The hole in the dead center of her chest piece was in need of repair from the arrow that had nearly killed her.

Fenris began to say, "It seems—" before Elesee cut him off with a sharp nudge to the ribs.

"Your throat has been hurting lately, hasn't it, _Leta_?" Elesee asked pointedly, her eyes narrowed at Fenris. "Take a drink before you continue. So you may _soothe your voice_."

Nearly cross-eyed and shaking with rage, Fenris took a sip of the stale ale before he continued in a squeaky, high-pitched voice, "It seems as though this glass is leaking, good messere."

"Ah, right." The bartend sniffed and snorted, then spat a rather copious amount of phlegm into his palm before coating the cup with the thick mucus. "Should about do the trick for now. Anything else, serahs?"

Elesee cleared her throat and kept a firm grip on Fenris's thigh to keep him from lashing out at the man. "We will take all three rooms."

"20 silver each night for the three. How long you be needing 'em for?"

The rogue shrugged casually before releasing her grip on Fenris's leg. "Oh, I'd say just two or three days at most. Does that sound about right, Leta? Izzy?"

"Perfect," purred Isabela. She eyed the bartender and stroked the side of the cup invitingly. "You know what they say about a man with big hands?"

The man looked at her before mumbling, "No," and disappeared into the backrooms of the tavern.

"Hello, ladies," a drunk patron catcalled. To his just-as-inebriated friend, he theatrically whispered, "I like the one in the yellow dress." They both chuckled for a minute before he called out to Sebastian, "Hey, beautiful, why don't you come sit in my lap and we will talk about the first thing that pops up?"

Elesee took a glance at the hot faces of Fenris and Sebastian—Sebastian looking a little pleased with himself—before muttering, "Let's get out of here before they kill someone."

"Sounds good to me. I need to dig through my bag and see what goodies I found anyway," Isabela agreed and put her arm around Sebastian's shoulders, pretending to be very drunk already and swaying under the influence of the ale. Rather loudly, she cried, "Oh, Sebina! Take me to the room; I can't take another moment without a woman's touch! I'm so-o drunk. I just _hope_ you don't take advantage of me."

Elesee rolled her eyes as the men elbowed one another with their tongues practically hanging out of their mouths.

"Let's go," Hawke hissed and Fenris followed on foot to the stairs leading up to the rooms.

x

Once their meager belongings were stowed in the rooms, the Champion tried futilely to coax Aveline out of her room. The door had been locked and she could hear the muffled voices from within, although she could not discern exactly what they were discussing. The Guard Captain simply told her loud enough to hear through the door to "Go away!"

Elesee inquired the others but no one seemed to have an answer. Frustrated, she returned to her chamber, gathered _Wicked Fang _and _Screaming Wind _and ran a polishing wax over the blades until they gleamed. After completing that, she took a coarse stone and sharpened the blades to a point that cut even if she ran just the very lightest of touches along the blades.

With the elixirs in her belts already mixed, there was little else to do save _think_. She sprawled out on the thin pallet, just a single layer of straw and feathers proved to test her joints and bones. Thinking usually took her to dangerous places.

Blood was always the first treacherous place her mind travelled to. So much blood over the years. Enough to fill the Amaranthine ocean and then some. All of it spilled by her hand. Or because of her intentions. Or because of her inattentiveness elsewhere. When would it be enough?

Before long, she had curled into a sleep plagued with nightmares of all the faces of the lives she had taken. The blood threatened to draw her in. For some reason she kept dreaming of a shadow spilling its blood on her belly and then lapping up the thick liquid with its hot tongue.

She was roused by a restlessness whose origin she could not place. Finally, after a few moments to let the webs of the nightmare burn away, she sat up.

The skies sat like a black square from the view in her window, starless and pitch. Fenris still had not joined her, despite the hour.

First a few stretches to work out the kinks the pallet had induced. As Elesee worked the knots out she listened to Sebastian speaking in a worried, hushed tone that made her ears prickle. Fenris's familiar brassy voice responded.

Elesee pressed her ear to the thin walls.

"…going to tell her?" Sebastian.

Pause.

"When she asks." Fenris.

"That's not fair, Fenris, and you know it. She deserves to know."

Sebastian's voice faded, then drew nearer, and faded. He must have been pacing.

"She has enough to worry about in this expedition without thinking of such matters."

"You speak of Aveline giving her child's life in exchange for Hawke as if it is unimportant, just another happening in the day. Sweet Andraste, bless the child and take it into your embrace. You think…"

She pulled back. Stopped listening.

By the Maker, what had she done?

"Excuse me, messere."

The bartend's voice was a shock. Elesee whipped around, a throwing dagger from within her shin-high boots at hand. She relaxed once she saw the hulking man that filled the doorway like an ogre in a child-size trunk.

"There's a letter come for an Avlin Vale? Sorry, serah, can't read real well. You bein' the only new guest in town, thought it might be one o' you lot."

"Yes, thank you. Please leave it on the desk."

She tipped him a copper for his trouble before collapsing against the door.

Maker's breath, poor, sweet Aveline! Was that the meaning behind her sour mood lately? Must be. Flemeth more than likely had something to do with this. Damn that witch! Damn her into the endless fade and may she never know the light of the Maker!

Elesee promised herself, as soon as she was finished with the letter, she would seek out Aveline and find out exactly what had happened and try her damnedest to make amends.

As she unfolded the crisply folded paper, she had to re-read the name signed across the bottom thrice before truly accepting it.

Elesee had worried over her whereabouts and her safety for some time now since the Circles had rebelled. They had lost contact shortly after, but not before being condemned for killing the First Enchanter. She had walked away and hadn't looked back since.

"Bethany."


	10. Chapter 9

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em><span>Breaking Tides<span>_

Elesee's fingers trembled as she held the paper as delicately as if it were a newborn placed into her unsuspecting hands. The paper held no trace of Bethany beyond her scribbled words hastily written across the page except the light aroma of sweat and beer, undoubtedly from the bartend. Satisfied there was nothing hidden away in the sealed letter save the message within, the rogue made herself read the note at last.

The message itself was not lengthy, only a paragraph in length, but the impact of the words struck Elesee as true as the arrow aimed for her heart.

Unthinking, Elesee grasped the note so hard the edges crumpled as easily as bones in an ogre's grip. She re-read once more, just to be sure.

Satisfied that she was not delirious and had read and understood each word, she tilted her head back against the gritty wood, felt a few loose strands catch in the splinters, and closed her eyes. Her whole body gripped in a state of shock that she did not even notice as the paper fluttered, danced to the floor as would a taunting desire demon's hips luring prey.

Flashes of her sister flashed through Elesee's mind as if they were dust motes floating to the surface through a beam of light. Images of their childhood. Moving from place to place. Bethany's confusions over becoming a mage. Carver and Elesee's pact to always protect their sister. Taking her into bed at nights when the nightmares were too much, when the killing became too much for her sweet, innocent sister.

And what had happened to that girl? Now she was a cold woman unperturbed by vengeance, even if it meant against her own sister.

_This is your fault! How could you? _Leandra's clear blue eyes were as betraying and heartbroken as her words. The memory was as sharp and defined as the blades Elesee used to slice down her enemies.

Elesee had always been calloused, had never known how to comfort. She could only be the support and backbone her family had needed her to be.

It was Bethany that had comforted their mother after Carver's death. Bethany that had insisted Elesee seek out Fenris, despite his hatred of mages, and had even schooled her on the appropriate flirting techniques.

Her father, her mother, Carver… She could feel each of their spirits around her like metal armor, a testament to her weakness and inability to defend. They watched with judging eyes as Elesee failed time and time again. And she had failed, hadn't she? In the worst of ways.

Their spirits and memory could not be carried away by medicines. This was an injury that no amount of potion or magic could salvage.

It was with a quiet, inner despair that Elesee regained her senses and donned her thick leathers. The missing chest piece was of no avail; she merely replaced it with a tunic and stuffed the excess into the belt around her ribs.

On the back of the parchment, Elesee wrote to the others all of her remaining thoughts and feelings she had not been able to express out loud.

Taking a pause to stare her daggers she'd discarded on the simple table, Elesee took several stabilizing breaths and went into the blank meditative state used while killing. A sliver of lingering despair slid into the weak spot of her armors and pierced as her fingers wound around the blade hilts. _Screaming Wind's _blade gleamed a sickly green and emanated a lilac light while _Wicked Fang's _blues and oranges reminded her somehow of the caves their troupe had abandoned. The enchantments had risen to the surface at the whisper of an oncoming battle.

x

Wart laughed drunkenly as his wooden leg gave out and he fell against a sleeping cow. The cow stirred from its sleep and screeched out a long, scared _moo!_

The other teenagers pealed into another chorus of laughter at Wart's clumsiness.

"I heard that it's the Champion of Kirkwall!" Keira giggled and thrust her breasts out and stood with her hands on either hips, mimicking the posters pasted all over Ferelden.

Wart brushed his good leg off but didn't bother to move from against the side of the cow. The wooden plank of a leg made a witch out of trying to get from the ground.

Garrett wiped a line of drool—or was it whiskey?—from his chin. "I hear they got a Dalish with 'em and she's bea-u-tif-ul…" He grinned lazily before adding, "For a knife-ear."

"Maker shit on the knife ears!" Percy spat angrily and his sister, Mercy, nodded in agreeance before taking a long draught out of the bottle of homemade whiskey.

Trying to impress Mercy, Wart leaned towards the glossy-eyed girl and drawled, "What do you say we show 'em how we like knife ears around here?"

Keira sputtered over her swig and interrupted any response Mercy may have made. "No way! I hared… heared they put spells cast on people!"

Wart spat a wad into the hay to show just what he thought of that.

Mercy and Percy both shared a long, dark look before they both grinned impishly at the same moment. Sometimes, being twins, they were eerily alike in movements, thought, and speech. Fade, sometimes they even looked alike.

Percy rumbled in gruff voice, "What are we waiting for?"

Wart looped an arm around Percy's thick neck as the stronger, older boy helped haul him to his feet. The others muttered assent but Keira pouted.

"I'm staying here," she whined and stamped her foot. "You all go off and enchant yourselves…. Andraste damn it all! I meant: curse."

The female half of the twins sniffed at the complaint. "Fine, Keira. Nobody likes the daughter of an apostate and a whore around anyway."

Unsteadily and cackling the whole way, the small ensemble made their way to the east side of the village.

The tavern's lights were out for the night but Grom's masonry puffed big plumes of smoke from the chimney. The new guests in town must have been well off to have Grom working so late into the night.

"_Shh!_"Wart hissed at the others, an index finger to his lopsided grin."Grom's still at it. He'll tan all of our hides if he sees us bothering the guests."

Garrett slurred, "But 's just a knife ear."

"You know how he is. Sympathetic." Wart spat the last word as if it were sour milk.

Percy pointed to one of the guest room windows on the second floor. "Look! Someone's in there."

Strange lights within skewed shadows across the windows. Blue, orange, purple, green…

"Magic?" Wart asked the others breathlessly. Now he was spooked and confusion mixed with the haze of booze.

Keira could have been right if this was a Dalish mage on the loose. They'd all end up cursed and he'd never get a chance to see Mercy's mercy…

Having already distributed the stones, Mercy had hers in hand. Her arm cocked to launch the rocks at the window. She ground out an angry, "Who cares?"

But Wart wasn't so sure, despite Mercy's surety.

Percy raised his arm and decided for them. The rock sailed straight towards the window.

Wart's peg wobbled against the ground as he waited in confused terror for the glass to rain after shattering. It never connected and instead hit something metallic.

Before he had any time to realize what exactly had happened, a terrifying shadow was upon him and he hit the ground with the creature trying to eat him!

A shade? They must have been working blood magic!

Piss ran down the length of his wooden leg and he had almost let out a shriek before a leather-gloved hand clamped over his mouth. The blade was a cold bite at his throat, just the light touch already drawing a trickle of blood that he dare not even swallow lest it cut open his thread-thin vein.

All he could see in his field of view was sunlight—no, a halo—no, that was her hair—and her eyes that reminded him of a midnight sky with twinkling stars. The sharp curve of her eyebrows smoothed out into two unamused slopes as the intent to kill seeped out of her harsh stare.

"By the Maker's balls," Wart could hear Percy's voice spoken in stricken awe, "it _is _the Champion of Kirkwall!"

The woman rocked back on her heels. Wart sat up and scrambled out of her reach.

The champion's eyes darted to the others and the blade _whoo _-ed as it slid through the air. She brandished the fiery orange metal at Percy. Mercy's eyes were wide as sovereigns. Garrett was in the bushes vomiting.

"What are you children doing?" she hissed in a sultry, velvety voice. Wart imagined her voice was one that could lure many a-fellow to her bed, or death. Whatever the case may have been.

Garrett, idiot he was, mumbled from the bushes, "Sorry, messere, we was only playin' a joke. We heard there was a knife-ear. Thought we might show 'er some hospitality."

Wart thought the champion might turn to a dragon any moment as she almost-visibly steamed. She returned her hungry-looking blade to the sheath strapped on her back. He regretted every last choice of the night as he heard the leathers of her gloves rub together when she clenched her fists.

As she pulled the cowl bunched around her neck up over her moonlight-reflecting hair, the assassin informed them all, "I do not wish to see you lot grow up to be the vermin—" She made a show of readjusting her belts around her middle, littered with poisons and throwing knives. "—like so many I have killed with just the twitch of my wrist. The only prejudice you must harbor against are those that prey on other, less fortunate souls." The champion turned her shadowed gaze on each of them. "The elf could be someone's father, brother… husband. And they might just have a relative, a friend that will think little of killing you for harming them. Think about that each time you wish to terrorize an innocent."

Mercy grumbled something about Dalish being anything but innocent but Percy laid a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

The champion, having wasted her patience, commanded them in a hollow tone, "Get back to your mothers now, Children."

Wart's stump groaned in protest as the four ran faster than if the darkspawn themselves were on their heels. Before he had a chance to return to his hut, he saw Mercy shoot an ominous look to her twin that made Wart worry just what the two planned on bringing to Niemeier.

x

Fenris was in a dark state of mind, his thoughts clouded in guilt, as he returned to the room. He stood outside their door and waited to swallow his dour mood. But it lingered.

Guilt for Aveline and his plea that had ultimately led to her child's death. A divide in himself on whether or not he should even tell Hawke about these things. His resolve had already been on unshaky ground and had all but diminished during the long and heated debate with Sebastian.

He closed his green orbs, mashed his snowy hair against the door, and let a long breath out of his full lips before he had steeled himself enough to face the questions he knew she would undoubtedly ask. He twisted the doorknob and had already parted his lips to speak her name before he immediately stopped.

The room felt _wrong_.

The light in the room had been snuffed but there was something missing. The sound of her breath.

Each detail stood out sharply to his probing stare. The open window. The paper placed against his bag. It was the sight of her daggers having disappeared that finally convinced him she was truly gone.

Confusion, hurt, doubt all crept up and down his spine before he snatched the letter from the floor. The side he read first was in strange writing he did not recognize as Hawke's.

He read the first word aloud, confused, "Sister…"

_ x_

_Sister,_

_It has been far too long since the arrival of your last letter. No couriers in caves, are there? Yes, you are correct in asssuming that I know exactly where you have been. Since your dissemination of the Circles, I have made some interesting contacts. Did you know that there is a… Well, rather costly in terms of blood and coin, but very worth it, spell that can track down whereabouts of an individual. We share the same blood. It proved to be little challenge. Nevertheless, dearest Sister—or can you even consider a lowly mage your sister?—I await you to the south, outside Halamshiral. Bring every weapon in your inventory. You will need them all._

_-Bethany_

_ x_

Broiling anger seared his nerves. He nearly lost control of the lyrium as he turned the note over.

x

_Aveline, Donnic, I cannot even fathom the loss of a child. _**_Thank you is not enough __That you would give a life for my own_**_ Even now I cannot find words to describe how terribly sorry I am.** I only wish…** I can only imagine this was Flemeth's doing. **The next time I see her I will kill her upon sight. No questions asked.** I hope that old bitch is destroyed. Soon._

_Sebastian, I wish you well in all your travels. I know the Maker has a plan for your kingdom and I have no doubt you are a part of His plan. Makerspeed._

_Isabela, just because I'm **dead** gone doesn't mean Fenris is willing to bed you.** I WILL come back as a spirit and haunt your ass if you so much as think of**_

_Fenris. **I'm sorry**. Please know I had to do this. **I can only imagine that** Bethany wishes me dead. I can't kill her. I will try to make her see reason. Bethany has never been one to use her mind, only her heart. It's why I have always tried to protect her. __She will not be reasoned with. But I will try. I promise you that._

_I am yours. I love you. Always._

_ x_

Over his body would he let her die. Fenris shouldered the Blade of Mercy before telling the others they were leaving for Halamshiral. _Now_.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note II: <strong>ff does not allow strike-through text, so the bolded text in the letter is supposed to be struck through. just a note.


	11. Chapter 10

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

* * *

><p><em><span>Haunted<span>_

Elesee brought the map closer to her nose, hoping some answers would lie in the small, skillfully drawn strokes of ink. The only feasible place for someone to lie in wait would be the Imperial Highway, which cut a direct path through the highlands parallel to Halamshiral. Nearer the river that cut through the cliffs, if Bethany were to have camped outside. The Maker would surely have to be smiling on her if she were to avoid any caravan looters or travelling Templars.

The rogue sighed and continued her march south-by-southwest, all the while nearly hugging the towering base of the moors. At last the highlands began to bleed into forest and level ground.

Growing up on the run from mage hunters, her father's magic provided little protection from ambush. Let alone food for the family to eat. Her mother only possessed knowledge of fashion or politicking. Carver and Bethany had been too young to be of much help. Being the only capable provider for her family, Elesee had taught herself how to track. Once her skills had been honed, she had saved her family a myriad of times from mage hunters or the occasional thugs. Never had she thought she would need to put her skills to use against her own sister.

Elesee could almost taste the hunt's end, the feel of the air growing thick with impending battle. Birds chirped nervously overhead. Branches of trees were twisted unnaturally, twigs or grass crushed in measured footfalls. Signs of recent activity of a small band of men. Accompanied by a lone woman.

Her right hand began to twitch nervously without the comfort of _Wicked Fang_'s hilt at hand. Her left strayed unconsciously towards the belt where her own bombs, grenades, poisons, and trap-making tools waited. But she wanted to be absolutely sure before arming herself.

Each step became a calculation. Elesee's eyes took in every minute detail before allowing another foot forward. Searched for any small trace of a trap. There were none; and the Imperial Highway was just over that slope, beyond a thicket of trees.

As she hit the tree line Elesee allowed herself to believe maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong about Bethany's intentions. Her fingers relaxed at her side.

The moment was short-lived as she spotted the first trip plate hidden beneath a freshly disturbed square of dirt directly east of her path.

A hollow sadness filled her bones as she gathered her cloak around herself while the free hand unlatched a small metallic ball strapped to her belt. The metal hit the ground and triggered the smoke and shadow magic nestled inside. It burst forth like a dragon's flame and filled her lungs, pores, hair until every fiber of her being tingled.

Being fully immersed in stealth had always been something Elesee had to give a moment's pause to get used to. Her own body disappearing before her own eyes had her screaming in pure terror the first time she had used the talent. Now it was one of the most useful tools of her trade.

The trap itself was poorly hidden and provided little effort to disable, almost child's play. With a hollow _click_, the plate lowered with a last dying breath.

Elesee froze and examined the trap more carefully. Perhaps it was a little _too _obviously in plain view.

"Ah, but you are a woman with many talents," an accented voice crooned nearby.

In a whirl of cloak, Elesee spun to face the ambush. But there was nothing to be seen.

"I would like to see what else those hands could do… Hopefully not as quickly as you disarmed that trap." The voice lilted, picked up in tempo before slowing to a sensuous drag. Something about the voice was familiar…

A dagger pressed dangerously close to her jugular. An arm locked around her so she could not reach her blades in the same moment the blade had made contact with her flesh. The stealth disappeared with the contact and both rogues appeared.

He held her in just the right way to render her incapable of using any of her weapons.

"Your sister hired me to kill you—"

Elesee struggled with her feet, trying to find something to brace herself against to throw her attacker off-balance. The man kicked her feet out from beneath her and used his weight in the fall to bring her to her knees. He pinned her legs down beneath his boots, the crushing weight making Elesee grunt in pain. Her muscles groaned in protest, dangerously close to a break.

"As I was saying: your sister hired me to kill you," said now into the rogue's ear pleasantly, as if they were having an amicable conversation. His breath tickled in her ear as he spoke but the feeling was unpleasant, not at all the same effect that Fenris had when doing this. "I found this most intriguing, _mea bella_, family pitted against family. I never expected to find _you _under such circumstances."

"It happens to the best of us," Elesee snorted sardonically and writhed beneath her attacker's iron grip.

"It is better if you don't struggle, yes? I only wish to help."

The rogue bared her teeth as she realized struggling _was _futile. Going against all instincts, she let herself relax beneath his grip. Maybe she could find a moment where his grip would get lax…

"There," he commented with satisfaction plain, "that is much better, no? Do you remember me at all, _mea bella_?"

Elesee tried to spin around to see his face but his grip did not change in the least. All she could do was snarl a low, "No."

"Oh! You wound me! It is because your rather angry looking friend stopped us from—oh, how do you say?—congregating in the same tent for an evening…"

Shock seized her throat closed for a moment as a face swam to the surface of her mind.

"…you would have most _definitely _remembered me, even by the sound of my own voice, if he had not interfered."

A bronze elf with fine blond hair the same color as her own. Three streaks of black tattooed to the left side of his face. An Antivan Crow named…

"Zevran!" Elesee exclaimed. The assassin's words bit off. "I remember. I helped you escape in Mount Sundermont. You were hiding out and I was hunting you but let you go when I found out who was after you and why."

Elesee furrowed her brow. "But I thought you were your own man now. How is it my sister hired you to be an assassin?"

The Antivan finally released her.

In one swift movement, Elesee pirouetted into a high round kick that caught him right in the groin.

The elf rolled around in pain for a few satisfying seconds as Elesee readjusted her wrinkled chemise and the belts that had been thrown askew. _Wicked Fang _made a soft hiss of satisfaction as Elesee removed it from its sheath. The blade caught the dying sunlight and glinted in her hand in a gleaming grin that illuminated each jagged edge and point.

"Keep your hands off, Zevran," Elesee warned, low and heated.

Zevran grinned up at the twin-fang dragon blades. The light caught in his face and it only made his smile appear brighter.

"I love your spirit, Champion. I was only engaging you in a bit of foreplay. No reason to be upset." The assassin held up his hands, free of any visible weapons, in a show of innocence.

Elesee couldn't help but roll her eyes at Zevran's childishness and helped him to his feet.

Once he had stood, she prompted, "Where's Bethany?"

A lazy smile accompanied a shrug. "I do not wish to see you die, _mea bella_. It is why I allowed your sister to hire my help in the first place. When she came to Tevinter—"

"_Tevinter_?" Elesee echoed in horror.

Zevran cocked a near-translucent eyebrow in amusement. "Yes, Tevinter. Surely you had heard of it. Blood magic, slaves… Sound familiar, no?"

Elesee folded her arms and scowled. "Of course I know of the Tevinter Imperium, Zevran. What was Bethany doing there? And you, for that matter? Being an elf in a land of elvhen slaves…"

"I had been hiding out, of course. One does not bed the First Magister's woman without notice, apparently.

"So there I was, hiding in the bedskirts of the First Magister's room when one of the First Magister's informants burst into the room shouting that the champion of Kirkwall had a sister thirsty for her blood and that she was seeking blood magic for a hefty sum. I killed him then—_ahem_—found your sister not long after… making sure the First Magister's woman was taken care of.

"Your sister. She was not hard to find. I told her I was a willing assassin. I did not tell her that you had saved my life. It was a way to repay my debt. Luckily she is not so corrupt she could see through this lie of my intention to harm you."

"Not so corrupt?" Elesee gasped. She began to tick off each point on her fingers. "My sister _hired a blood mage_ to work _blood magic_ to track me down and _a thug_—"

Zevran began to protest, one index finger pointed in exclamation before Elesee cut him off.

"—and _wants to kill me_. How is she 'not so corrupt?'"

The Antivan paused. "Well… I guess I see your point."

A slow clap captured both rogues unaware. They turned to the east where Bethany appeared from beyond the realm of view, having hidden beyond the trees. She still clapped her hands together mockingly. _Slap, slap, slap._

Three men in various stages of depravity fell in line behind her.

First elation, then shame, trampled in turn by horror all tore at one another for the lead feeling bouncing through Elesee at the sight of her sister.

Bethany had changed. Her eyebrows now crushed her eyes into hard, angry lines. Her lips, once with a bit of a smile nested into the corners, were set with either a sneer or menacing scowl that could put Fenris's snarls to shame. She had replaced the shoulder length wave with a severe bun that said: this is a woman that commands respect, perfection, obedience.

"Bravo, dear _sister_," Bethany taunted, circling the two rogues like a shark. Her sapphire eyes pointed at Zevran. "I see you've managed to already sway my… 'How do you say? Unbeatable elvhen assassin.'" Her mocking Antivan accent was nearly perfect. She rounded back on her older sister. "Then again, you always did have _such_ a way with the knife ears. Don't you, dear sister?"

Elesee took the low blow begrudgingly. She had to swallow back a sour response before choking out the first words other than a threat. "I'm sorry."

Bethany paused, her dark blue eyes a swirl of hate. "Sorry?" she growled. "Sorry for what? For letting me get taken by the Templars while you were off gallivanting in the Deep Roads? For letting Meredith kill almost every mage in Kirkwall? For nearly killing me when I stood with my apostate brethren?" Each sentence grew in fervor until Bethany's face was a mask of pure rage. Her staff shook as her fingers clawed into the wood. She nearly shouted every word. "You seemed to have forgotten your heritage, sister. Our father would be so ashamed if he were alive today. Thank the Maker he and Mother did not live to see the day his bitch of a daughter turn against everything ever taught to us."

Tears prickled at the corner of Elesee's eyes. She could not… _would _not let her little sister see how much these words affected her. How many times had she hidden her tears from her siblings, trying to protect them from the harsh truths of the world? Countless times. She could do this no longer. She had already failed in her attempts to protect them.

"I know," was more a gentle sigh of surrender than spoken.

Bethany paused. A sliver of …_something… _something_ soft… _passed through her eyes before they hardened once more. She paced quicker than before, her staff hitting the ground so hard that little flecks of dirt sprang around the shaft.

Zevran stiffened beside Elesee, his hand lowering toward a knife strapped to his thigh. Elesee cleared her throat, trying to dissuade any battle from happening, and spoke out stronger than before. "That's not all I'm sorry for, Bethany."

The mage snarled.

Lightning crackled, the electricity raising the fine hairs all over her body.

"I'm sorry for Orsino, too. I know he reminded you of Father. You have to know that I never wanted any of this to happen," Elesee continued despite her sister's tantrum.

Memories flitted behind her eyes.

x

_Bethany was upset over something Carver had done. Oh, right. He had cut her hair while she was asleep and then proceeded to tell her that she looked like an abomination. Her wails rang through the house. Father was out and mother could only protect Carver as her wailing child's powers flailed any object in reach around the room. Elesee stood in the corner and watched Mother press Carver against the wall, taking the brunt of any blow from the untamed magic user._

_A nib from a pen sliced her cheek nearly in twain as it flashed by in the maelstrom. Elesee pressed her hand against her mouth to keep from screaming out. Bethany saw her sister's injury and screamed in terror and heartbreak._

_The older sister did the only thing she could do. She approached the tornado of magic. _

_Lightning sizzled through the air, nearly singed her eyebrows. Fire licked across her hands as she braced herself against the torrent of pain. She could smell burnt hair and hear the flesh sizzle as she nearly toppled under the agony. Breathing the icy air that burst through the fire felt like breathing knives._

_Two more steps in and she was at the heart of the storm. _

_Bethany's hands were balled over her eyes. With her burned arms Elesee enfolded little Bethany in a firm embrace and stroked down her blunt chunks of hair over and over. Bethany resisted, her body rigid._

_"I love your hair, Bethany," Elesee reassured Bethany, her mind fading in and out as the pain threatened to take her. "I think shorter suits you better. Carver just did a bad job of cutting it is all."_

_Her little sister sniffled. The storm's howl turned to a dull wind as Bethany's big, watery eyes examined her older sister's face. "Really?"_

_"Truly," Elesee agreed breathlessly. _

_She beamed proudly at her sister when the maelstrom died completely._

_Bethany returned the smile and wrapped her little arms around Elesee's shoulders. The pain shot through her arms and she must have cried out because Bethany then really looked at her sister's wounds._

_"I'm sorry," she said gravely, looking at the mass of burnt and melted flesh on her big sister's arms. "I didn't mean for it to happen."_

_"I know, Bethy," Elesee murmured into her hair with a small smile before succumbing to blissful dark._

_ x_

"I never wanted to choose sides," Elesee informed her, her arms spread of their own volition as if inviting her for a hug. "I just wanted to keep you safe. I never once lifted a finger to hurt you in the battle. _Think, _Bethany. Did I ever raise my blades to you? I could never hurt you.

"And if I had known that you were going to be captured by the templars, or that Meredith would have ordered every mage destroyed, or that Orsino would turn to blood magic… But I couldn't have known.

"I'm so… so sorry, Bethy."

The cracks in Bethany's anger began to form and her eyes shone brilliantly. When she next blinked, two tears rolled down her cheeks.

Elesee took a step forward, her arms still held out to her sides.

The spell broke. Rage returned and twisted Bethany's features. She raised her staff and roared, "Don't call me that!" To the three followers, she shrieked, "Kill them! Kill them both!"

Zevran disappeared in an explosion of smoke, then reappeared seconds later behind one of the oncoming thugs and drove both of his daggers into the brute's back. The second man had Zevran in a grapple before a stream of fire cut off Elesee's view.

She turned in shock to her sister wearing a magic-made earth armor around her body. The mage crashed her boulder fist into her nose. Bone crunched and snapped beneath the blow. Elesee tasted blood before her head swam briefly in darkness.

_They were on the run again and had hidden away in a barn._

_The twins curled up on either side of Elesee to try and keep warm. Bethany would not sleep without a kiss on the forehead._

_Carver snored so loud the mage hunters were alerted to 'shades howling in the barn.' _

_Even while in Kirkwall Bethany still told the tale of that night._

_ x_

_Father holding Bethany's frail little fingers around a staff as he instructed her. _

_But when Bethany noticed Elesee, she dropped the stick and ran to her sister and threw her arms around her._

_"Ooh, See-See," Bethany crooned out her nickname for Elesee while she eyed the hare—rabbit being her favorite—dangling by its back legs from Elesee's hands. "You're my favoritest sister in the world!"_

_She laughed. "I'm your only sister."_

x

"Get up!" Bethany ordered her. "Fight me!"

"No." Half-dazed, stars swimming around the edges of her vision, the champion ambled to her feet. She held her fists at her sides, started toward her sister again, and stared her right in the eyes. "Please forgive me, sister. I will not hurt you."

Bethany screamed, either in frustration or rage, a wordless cry before launching ice bolt after ice bolt.

Elesee only half-scrambled to avoid the missiles. Her right leg collapsed as ice encased the skin and rendered it useless. She fell to her knees.

Now it was on hands and one knee, with the other leg in tow, that Elesee dragged herself towards Bethany. She was within arm's reach now.

x

_Elesee stood back and listened to the twins as they told tales of the Warden._

_"She sure is brave," Carver observed._

_Bethany looked left and right, not noticing their sister standing at their backs, before whispering, "Not as brave as our See-See."_

x

"Elesee!" someone cried out in shock, then again in horror.

_Fenris?_ Elesee thought before she snaked a hand around her sister's ankle.

The blows from the staff were blunt and left cuts that felt as swollen and tender as day old blisters. Consciousness faded in and out. She struggled just to keep her head up on her wobbly neck.

_I'm sorry_, she said over and over, or was she even breathing at this point? Maybe only mouthing the words.

Elesee thought she might have heard someone say something about killing Bethany.

"Don't!" she cried, but it only came out as a whisper. Elesee vomitted and thought it was strange how red the mess looked. When a last wind of determination flooded her, she forced herself to her good leg and stood before her little sister. She would shield her from any threats, take any blows, defend until the end.

Bethany's face was pale. Uncertain. This was an improvement at least.

"Don't kill her!" Elesee screamed as loud as her collapsing lungs would allow.

Darkness.

Everything looked strange from this perspective. Askew. _Must be on my back_…

Fenris's hand made an audible cracking noise as he slapped Bethany across the face. She took the blow before looking down in such a way that made Elesee's heart hurt. A look full of regret and sadness.

Elesee meant to cry out, tell him to stop but—

More darkness.

Hands—_Bethany's _hands—glowing with the fusion of purple and red of healing magic. And words that flowed through her as sure as the warmth of the healing.

"I never meant to hurt you. _I'm _sorry, See-See."


	12. Chapter 11

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

* * *

><p><em><span>Respite<span>_

The heady smell of healing solvents bubbling from the cracks in the door made Fenris's head spin as he paced back and forth in front of the tavern's suite. Bethany had been healing Elesee for a period of time and she had long since regained consciousness. He could catch little snippets of their conversation despite his trying to block out the conversation in respect of their privacy but it proved to be difficult to try to ignore Hawke's lulling voice, a siren call that always sent his blood running warm.

Deciding to make better use of his time, Fenris tramped down the stairs in order to seek out the bartend. There were no patrons yet, as the time was just waning morning, but the bartend was setting up for noon's opening. Fenris could hear him gathering supplies from the backroom. He would ask the man whereabouts the nearest vendors made their trade, as their supplies were nearly depleted from the constant travel.

A tinny bell sat atop the freshly wiped bar, damp with soapy residue. It gave a shrill ring when Fenris tapped the side with the pointed tip of his glove.

"Closed," the bartend's muffled voice announced.

"I am only seeking the location of the nearest venues for food."

The man as tall as he was wide appeared within a few moments, wiping off his mammoth hands on the thighs of his trousers. He gave Fenris pause. "You look different today, Mistress… Leta, was it?"

Dark and void! The disguise! In his haste, he had completely forgotten to put the damned thing back on.

Fumbling to retract his negligence, Fenris lacked most of his usual grace and surety as he stammered, "Yes—Ah, well, you see… There's—I—we…"

The oaf raised his hands, dismissing the ambling talk altogether. "Not needed. I may be a common man without a wandering tongue. But I sees me some things. I knowed who you lot was but you paid honest and fair coin. Just don't want any troubles. Best you get back to your woman and costume up once more, lad." As an afterthought, the simple man added, "But don't take the other'n. Made an awful woman, you's sure to be noticed then."

Unsure of what to say, Fenris nodded and began to turn on heel to retrace his steps. It was only two steps in before he turned back around and wordlessly slapped a sovereign on the bar.

The two shared the knowing look of two men who knew when to remain silent before the elf once more rounded up the staircase.

Though he had knocked on Isabela's door several times and could hear voices within, she did not answer his call. He did not bother any further and simply let himself in. Sebastian, Isabela, and the newest addition, Zevran, sat around the desk at the heart of the room as the Antivan told a bewitching tale. Both Isabela and Sebastian were so entranced by the tales of the Crow they paid little to no attention as Fenris stood just within the entrance.

"…and that is when the champion's… what did you call him, Isabela? Brood King growled out angrily and gnashed his teeth."

Fenris's black eyebrows crashed into his forest green eyes, shadowing them in a blaze of anger as he listened to the vastly misspoken tale of the actual events that had happened on Sundermont.

"He tore Elesee from my grasp, saying, 'This woman is mine and none other shall have her! Or my heart will be shattered and I will surely fall to pieces.' Elesee had cried out, begged for the Brood King to stop, but he would not listen." The assassin paused for effect.

Just enough time for Sebastian to notice the subject of the story leering maliciously behind Zevran, obviously incensed to murderous heights. "Ah…" he tried to say before Zevran cut him off.

"I swear there was a tear in our beloved Hawke's eye as she kissed me goodbye. One last, sad kiss that I will remember for the—"

The clay inkwell broke into dust, powdering the blond hair with a smatter of terra cotta. Isabela's laugh cut above the angry assassin's tangent of Antivan curses. When he had turned to face his assailant, the anger milked away into a chastened grin as he saw just who had broken the jar over his throbbing skull.

"Ah, my friend, but I was just regaling—" Zevran began smoothly, his arms open in a welcoming gesture.

Fenris snarled, hands curled into half-cocked fists, "Yes, I heard quite enough to know the slanderous lies you were trying to spread."

"Apparently," Isabela flourished, her eyes and smile equally wicked, "that's not _all _he was trying to spread, Fenris."

Fenris roared and searched for the nearest weapon, having left his sword within Hawke's chamber. He grabbed up the nearest sharp thing nearby: a hot fire poker.

"Maker help us. Woman, must you provoke him?" Sebastian sighed in exhaustion.

Isabela only chuckled in response as she followed the duel closely.

Zevran lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug and his canine glistened in a grin when he dodged Fenris's first intended blow. The poker nearly split the table in two when the metal cracked and splintered the wood down the middle.

"Sorry, my friend," Zevran apologized half-heartedly and parried another swing that missed his cheek by a footfall. "I will try to stand still to allow you to hit your intended target."

Sebastian stood but made no attempt to part the one-sided battle. "Please, can we stop the fighting now? Hawke needs her rest…"

"Yes, I know all about what Hawke needs. A man who _knows_ how to handle his sword," Zevran taunted.

At the last comment Fenris had had enough and jammed his shoulder into the Antivan's throat. Zevran stumbled back, gasping, before Fenris sliced the poker down the Crow's front from his navel to the very highest tip of his pelvis, nearly turning the man into a woman. The slice was enough to leave a good open cut that would remain open unless properly treated, as the edges would be unable to mend after being seared by the red-hot iron.

Still managing to appear half-smiling despite his injuries, Zevran shook Fenris's unyielding arm. "Very good," he panted and hobbled to the door with one hand over his stomach. "You are much more capable than I had given you credit for. Now, if you will excuse me," he twisted the door handle as he said, "I am going to find that healer sister of Hawke's. Aren't they both in her bed right now?"

Another surge of anger had Fenris running for the door after a chortling Zevran, but Isabela caught him by the chest and held him at bay. "Whoah, there. You obviously were in here for a reason. What did you need?"

"To kill a mocking bird," Fenris replied hotly and glared at the place Zevran had just exited. He could envision the Crow's wily words sending Elesee blushing. And then he could imagine the blood flowing to other places. His vision went red.

"Hey, hey, hey. What's got you so hot? Oh wait, don't tell me." The pirate winked at him, her eyes undressing his plated armor.

The distraction gave him a breath to cool down and think clearly. He turned his back to her and pinched the bridge of his proud nose. Elesee had already made her choice and there was nothing to worry over. He would be the better man and not give in to the provocation… again, anyway.

Although with the lines having been drawn, Fenris knew now he would be unable to allow himself to be seen in that disguise so long as that unholy Crow accompanied the bunch.

"I knew that he was full of bollocks, if it makes you feel any better," Sebastian informed Fenris with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

The elf shook his head. "It doesn't."

For once appearing a little more on the serious side, rather than seducing, mocking, taunting, or gossiping, Isabela looked pointedly at Fenris. "What's wrong? You look sad… More than your usual brand." Ah, how long that shift lasted.

The archer did not offer any argument to dissuade this opinion as being the consensus.

Fenris did not owe them any sort of explanation but there were serious doubts that had been burrowing into his thoughts until they had begun to consume him, especially in light of recent events. But Isabela knew nothing of love and the troubles that sometimes accompanied, as her love was merely contained to a sheet within a night. Sebastian held no answers either as his love was kept only for his Maker.

"Nothing," was all the elf replied.

Isabela raised a brow in disbelief and Sebastian regarded Fenris doubtfully, trying to dissect him with a stare. "Don't let Zevran ruffle your feathers," she advised.

"'And the Maker did give strength and rejoice to those who set their doubts aside and came freely to Him with open hearts,'" Sebastian recited. "'For blessed are those who have shed their darkness and come to the light.'"

The Chant was a little too close to home. Fenris shuffled uncomfortably and muttered an excuse to leave. At this point the members had each gotten used to the elvhen's inability to handle some social interactions, and talking about feelings was at the forefront of that list. Fenris was grateful no one tried to stop him as he left the tavern to breathe in the fresh, sea-tainted air.

"Don't need it," Fenris declared at his descent down the stairs before the bartender could even comment on his lack of costume.

Taking the hint, the larger man probed no further, not that Fenris would have given him the opportunity. He burst through the doors and out into the misted sunlight where the townsfolk were already beginning their morning hustle and bustle. But with his unmistakable appearance—scars, armor, ears—the people brushed by him while not bothering to hide their open stares. He heard the murmurs and slurs but ignored them as he charged through the streets towards the epicenter of the crowd.

Vendors were difficult to deal with, insisting they would not sell to a "knife-ear" until Fenris supplied them with what he was sure was more coin than they had ever seen in their meager lives. It was not a manner of a bribe; the elf simply did not care for haggling.

Once word had passed around that the Dalish—he painfully took their ignorance in stride—had money and plenty of it, the merchants flopped completely on their bellies. Now they were the beggars, beseeching him to try their wares. There were still the sparse hard-headed merchants who refused him.

He carelessly shrugged and moved on.

"Bloody knife-ears, taking over all Ferelden, they are," he heard a girl in her pubescent years murmur nearby. She had spat in his direction, nearly catching one of his greaves as the wad sailed towards him. He had nearly stomped off until he caught the tail-end of her conversation with what he thought might be her twin. Yes, they were nearly identical in appearance. "…when they find out our father has told the Templars all about where the champion is hiding? Serves her right for fucking a knife-ear. I hope they hang her from the gallows."

"You didn't!" a third boy cried in disbelief. He leaned unevenly on one leg. Upon looking closer, the elf could see the peg of a leg beneath the hem at his ankles.

The girl's voice was nasty as she said pointedly, "I thought you said you hated the knife-ears too."

"I lied. And now the Champion is going to track us down and kill us all!" the lame boy cried in fear.

Fenris rounded back to the teenagers. He set down the hefty flour sacks full of provisions.

The twins stared at him in identical expressions of confusion and hatred. The handicapped boy, on the other hand, was terrified.

"I could use some help, Boy," Fenris informed the ghost of a boy. He made sure to keep his face neutral. To sweeten the deal of the obviously lank, half-starved child, he added, "I will repay you with food."

"He don't help knife-ears," the male twin protested.

But the gimp's stomach grumbled in response to the elf's request.

"Thank you very much, Messere. Happy to help you," the boy squeaked. He jumped out of reach of the older and larger boy's grasp then limped to the supply bags.

Fenris supplied the boy with the lighter of the two sacks and led him towards the tavern, away from the glaring twins. As soon as they had rounded a corner out of eyesight from the teenagers, Fenris stopped dead in his tracks and dropped the sack. He glowered at the child.

"I overheard those two. When did they give away our location to the Templars?"

He shrank back underneath the intense scrutiny of the elvhen warrior. The boy swallowed and visibly trembled as hard as if Fenris had grasped his shoulders and was shaking him himself. "L-last night, Messere. After the ch-champion nearly skinned our hides for throwin' rocks at the inn. Please, don't kill me!"

"How many does your kinsman know? The Templars."

"Maybe a dozen in Hatholas, a town at the base of the mountain to the East. It's less than a day away."

Fenris tossed two loaves of bread and a silver to the boy's feet. "Get out of here." He inclined his head towards the way from which they had just come.

No further goading needed, the gimp limped away quickly with the bread and silver tucked in his shirt.

x

Zevran's unsubtle advances had tired Elesee more than the healing session had but, with all the rooms cloistered with activity, she could not escape for sleep. She was grateful when Fenris burst through the door, a little haggard as his hair was disheveled more than usual and the circles beneath his eyes were more pronounced.

His wild gaze sought her face first then took in Zevran's half-naked sprawl across their bed. Despite Bethany being the one with her hands dangerously close to his unmentionables, despite the fact that Elesee was nowhere _near_ the bed, and that Zevran had at least the decency to keep his under frock on… A bit of jealousy poked its face into his short, "I have news."

Elesee lifted a thin brow. Lately news had not been a good sign. "What troubles you?"

"It is not news that you could not hit an old man moving with the speed of a turtle on an uphill slope."

"Zevran!" Bethany chided and the magic drained from her touch at the distraction. "I've seen Fenris cut off the head of a High Dragon. Do you have a kill _that_ established to your name?"

"Did I tell you the story of how I took down an entire army of men just by myself?"

Doing her best to ignore the remarks, Elesee let her gaze fall back on the hard lines etched into Fenris's face. Zevran must have said something much worse than what he had originally claimed to have said to have riled Fenris so much.

One touch of her knuckles to the back of his hand was all it took for him to center himself once more. Elesee saw the tension relax just a hairsbreadth out of his shoulders. It was enough for him to focus only on her face alone, the green of his eyes leaving little hot trails all over her skin.

"They're coming," his voice carried into the now attentive room.

Elesee felt the weariness of her wounds tunnel deeper as she fought to stave it away. She cast a long look into Fenris's eyes, something unreadable in their depths. Perhaps he was just as tired of this running as she. "How long?"

"We have until nightfall."


	13. Chapter 12

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em><span>Holy War<span>_

After a short pause, Elesee took in her priors, along with a steep intake of breath, to announce, "I'm going to tell Aveline."

Having declared her intentions, she made to exit the room but was stopped by a silver breastplate. His smell wafted around her and churned the webs of fear until they became intangible in blurry afterthoughts.

She smiled a small, wistful smile that made her blue eyes sparkle, the lancets of yellow caught in the noon light. Stray tendrils of her pale blond hair fluttered through the same ray of light and pulsated around her face. His eyes followed their movements, making her heart thump irregularly in her chest.

Fenris shook his head at her, his face that careful neutral that was reserved for awaiting her reactions to decide which way it would follow. "I don't think that would be wise."

Elesee came up short. It wouldn't be wise to speak with Aveline? She had nearly opened her mouth to voice her displeasure with his advisement when the lock turned in place and the door opened to the realization.

He had not actually informed her of Aveline's predicament and sorrows. The discovery had been entirely accidental as she had overheard the snippets of conversation with Sebastian.

He was merely trying to protect her. From Aveline. But also, from the truth.

The gesture was sweet in nature but unnecessary. To try and avoid the conversation with Aveline would be just as putting off the healing of a wound, eventually it would fester with infection until they would have to sever ties. And she was not prepared to lose anyone else from her side. Not if she could help it.

Her eyes lifted playfully but her voice was lost in darker tones when she murmured, rhetorically, "When have I ever known to do anything wise, Fenris?"

Perhaps to interject, the curve of his mouth parted before cut off by an accented voice.

"Certainly you did not begin with turning me away from your bed."

Despite the frost in his emerald glare, his scars betrayed his emotions as they shuddered a soft blue.

As she left, the champion swore she could hear Fenris's thoughts, all dark, malicious, and aimed straight at the Antivan Crow.

x

The former guard captain's face was a sallow pastel pink, her thin lips drawn into a tight line. Elesee was unsure of whether the woman looked more angry or sad, especially as, completely in contrast, her stance was strong and sure. The armor and shield were metaphorical as well as physical in nature; as soon as it was donned, there was no way of telling exactly what the Orlesian felt.

Unsure of which course of words to take first, Elesee rapped her fingers on thinly papered walls. The wood belched and wheezed when struck to life, a decade-old corpse taking its first breath. Two times she stopped, opened her mouth to speak, a hand half-lifted to gesture with whatever annunciation she may have made… but, twice, she fell back to the awkward taps again.

Donnic's braid swished back and forth against his under armor wear as he looked between the two females. Both sentinels waiting for the other to begin. It was strange how similar the beginnings of a difficult conversation began the same as a battle… Both weighing options, strategies, possible outcomes, the chances of injury…

Her brow quirked in her hesitation as she worked through all possible points of strategy in her mind. Every which way seemed insufficient as a maze full of dead-ends. If only she could find her way out of this mess with just a few carefully placed words, as was her casual way. But this was not their everyday dilemmas coming to play. These beasts were far nastier.

"Just spit it out, Hawke," Aveline ordered, some of her weariness leaking through into her voice.

The rogue righted herself, tugging the hem of her leather breast guard down into place beneath the multitude of belts. She cleared her throat to buy just a second of time longer before meeting Aveline's neutrality head-on.

"Fenris told me—well, not me. He told Sebastian. I just overheard. And—" _Great, Elesee, what a great note to begin the conversation with. I came here to confuse you, Aveline. Quest completed? Wonderful! Oh, by the way, sorry about everything and, did I mention that there are Templars on the way to kill us even as I speak?_

After her gravest sacrifice, Aveline deserved better than this, Elesee reminded herself before feeling her resolve solidify. At last the right path was in view, Elesee could feel the suitability of her words even as she said them, "I would have never asked you give up anything for me, Aveline. Let alone a life, especially that of your child. I would say I'm sorry, but that could never be enough. I would say 'thank you' for caring that much, so much for my life that you made the choice you did. But that, too, is inapt.

"So I am left without many words at all except this: I give you my solemn oath that I will do everything in my power to make sure that sodding witch goes straight into the heart of the Void for doing such a thing to you and yours. If I had known what she planned, I never would have agreed to live."

"Don't belittle the life of my baby, Hawke," Aveline spat. Her face contorted in a tangle of emotions that swept once across her face before she staunched the flow once more. With a shaky hand, she replaced stray tendrils that had shaken free of her headband.

"Look at me! I can't even control my emotions for a breath, just from looking at you. Knowing that I am bereft, my child is gone, and you are here, with everything..."

A muscle twitched in Elesee's jaw as she reined in her own hot feelings that threatened to surface. She had to remember she was dealing with a grief-stricken mother, not the wailings of a madwoman with a death wish. How had she acted when Mother had lost her only son? Elesee supposed asking Aveline to move on would definitely not see a positive outcome, so her mind brushed that possibility aside.

"Dear," Donnic began, one staying hand placed on his wife's hunched shoulders.

The knight recoiled from the touch, throwing out her shield arm instinctively to hold him at bay. Her husband got the point despite the shield's stowed position against the far wall.

Aveline continued, all the more weary for the random burst of contempt, with her fingers pinched over the bridge of her nose. "I don't think it's a good idea for us to continue down this path together any longer, Hawke. I am tired. More tired than I have ever been. I had expected to make this journey with you but never at these costs..." Her voice and eyes both followed the trail of her words out of her mouth, lost in some unseen memory or wishes for a future that would never happen.

Donnic murmured to his wife in a private conversation. Allowing the two a private moment, Elesee flexed her hand, watching the leather ripple and tighten across her knuckles. Aveline had these gloves altered specifically for the rogue when Elesee had commissioned a replica of Ser Wesley's shield for battle to allow Aveline to keep the original encased.

The gloves were beautifully crafted; a thin, but sturdy leather that had been dyed black to match the rest of her armors. A threadbare silk insignia bearing the Hawke crest had been carefully crafted over the inside of each wrist in red. There were two hidden sheaths beneath the crest either for a smoke bomb, a throwing dagger, 'or whatever else your devious rogue mind can come up with,' a much happier Aveline had toyed. In one of the inlets, Elesee had tucked away the _home _rune that was the mate to the rune set in _Screaming Wind_'s hilt.

Before then, throwing a boomerang blade had proven to be irksome at best. Just one battle in and she had realized, much to the delight of Varric and Isabela, that throwing a boomerang blade could be troublesome if you lost track of the weapon. Ah, how the other rogues within the party had taunted her. Aveline had held her tongue and helped Elesee each time trying to find _Screaming Wind_'s whereabouts.

And now, in just these short weeks since they'd left Ferelden, she never would have imagined losing the members of her new family. Would not have even thought the idea possible. And yet, here they were, on the precipice of going each separate way.

The thought of asking Aveline to stay against her desires was out of the question. Elesee had never allowed a selfish moment between them and that had been the nature of their friendship. It wouldn't change now, especially in light of the circumstances. And so, it would be with a heavy heart that she would see the Guard Captain leave.

With an offering of a sad smile and tear-blurred eyes Elesee reminded her longest-standing friend and her husband, "You may want to hurry, whatever your decision. The Templars are on their way."

The two straightened from their huddle and shared the same worried expression.

The guardsman glanced at his wife for either approval or opposition. When neither came, his clear gray eyes were on Elesee's face as he informed her of their intentions to disband.

The words did not surprise Elesee but stung all the same. She bowed her head, busying herself along her belts to keep the notice away from the tears that had sprung unexpectedly into her eyes. So this was it. After all the journeys the group had taken together, this would be their last day together. With Sebastian and Isabela's journey to Starkhaven, save one questionable rogue assassin, the only company to be kept would be Fenris and Bethany.

After untying the straps, Elesee tossed her weighty sack of coins to Donnic. He caught the bag with some skill, the metal clinking in his hand.

"Take it. It's all I have left. Hide away, start life anew, return to Kirkwall... Whatever the Maker has in store for you, I wish you both a blessed future."

"We don't want your coin, Hawke. You know I don't like being anyone's charity or in anyone's debt..."

Elesee silenced her protests with a motion of her hand. "Take it, Aveline. It's the very least I can do for you. I will never forget that I am the one in _your _debts." Her eyebrow arched as she added to Donnic, "Take care of her."

He grinned wryly and glanced adoringly at his wife. "I think she's the one that ends up always taking care of me. But I will do my best. And you... take care, too, Hawke. Please understand this is not an easy decision for us to leave. I want to make sure we're doing what's right, but not at the compromise of my wife's sanity."

Knowing this would be the final time she would ever see her, Elesee cast one last long look at Aveline, trying to memorize her in this moment, to etch her face into her memory. The spatter of freckles, the carefully controlled arrangement of red-orange hair atop a stern face, the muscled arms and thin lips. _Maker watch over this woman, as she is pure and strong and needs your guidance._

"I know, Donnic. I would never ask those things from either of you. I will distract the Templars so you all will go unnoticed when leaving."

She paused in her step, one gloved hand just a breath away from leaving behind her most treasured friend. "Please know I never wanted this to happen. For what it's worth, I _am _sorry. I-I'll miss you, dear friend."

It was with memories of their more adventurous times together and a dark haunting pain of guilt and disbelief that Elesee closed the door with a final, "Goodbye."

x

"Where's Red?" Isabela asked upon Elesee's re-entry.

Her usual gait was thrown off for a more hesitant stride as she rejoined the group.

Fenris eyed her but remained silent. Whatever had transpired left Hawke looking every bit as tired as she deserved to be after all the misadventures they'd encountered. He would not impel her but that did not stop the upwelling of curiosity. He listened raptly for her reply.

Though he could see the toll this took on her, the way her shoulders sagged, her eyes no longer lifted in the corners as if they were in a constant state of smiling, and how she shifted uncomfortably with the question. Loss was never something she had dealt well with—it had been a constant staple in his life where he had never expected anything from anyone and Hawke was always looking for the greater good in people, eradicating those preying on the innocent—and he wanted to take the weight of it from her shoulders with a touch. He settled for wringing his fingers, knowing she had greater things to concentrate on. There was always another time to console.

"It seems as though I am losing many today," Elesee said, not unkindly as she came to stop beside the table. "Maker… I wish I was Dalish. I could use a good frolic."

Zevran, having already healed—and Fenris would make a point later to talk to Bethany about never healing that damned Antivan again, _especially _when it was he that had injured him—had sauntered in while Elesee had been speaking with Aveline.

He now moved to the champion's side, his mouth so close to her neck that the hairs rustled with his breathing and said with lips nearly pressed to Elesee's earlobe, "I could show you a frolicking you've never experienced in your life."

Fenris had to struggle with the urge to reach across the table and snap the man's neck.

Blushing, Elesee withdrew the intricately drawn map from her satchel. The paper itself encompassed the length of the table and the edges curled over the sides. She cleared her throat as she smoothed out the crinkles.

"Oh, come on, Hawke!" Isabela protested without sparing a glance to the map. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, giving the mounds a little extra bounce and push almost in exclamation with her words. "It's not like we won't ever see you again. It's a wonder the whole of Thedas can't find you. Wherever you go, there're always an abundance of bodies. All carefully looted, I noticed…"

"Only because you're usually with me," Elesee jabbed, looking up from her map. A small flash of her usual humor materialized, though the smile in her words did not quite reach her eyes. "What kind of woman takes a man's clothes off his back only to resell them to vendors?"

"A crafty one." Isabela made busy with picking out some invisible grit from beneath her nails. Her shoulder lifted insouciantly. "It's not like they need them anymore anyway."

The moment of banter done, Elesee's face wilted again as she turned her attentions back to the map. She let the hair fall into her face and Fenris wondered momentarily if it was to hide the emotions lurking there. The wonderment ebbed into a desire to sweep the hair from her face and force his mouth to hers, let her feed her grief into him so her sorrows would end. He would happily carry her weight and his own if it meant a smile.

Her finger stabbed at their location, just a tiny dot cushioned against the Waking Sea. The gesture cut his thoughts short. Fenris's brows furrowed as he focused, the few words she'd been saying repeated briefly through his mind, although blurred by the previous desires.

"You want me to what?" he asked, hoping against hopes he'd misheard what he _thought _she might have said.

"You need to disguise yourself again."

Dammit! He'd heard right the first time. All he could think while she spoke was that Zevran's amused snicker made his hackles rise. The tips of his fingers itched as the desire to snap his neck increased tenfold.

Elesee continued, unaware of the silent battle raging between the two men, "They know who I am but they don't need to know who I'm travelling with. Let them think I've all but abandoned the group. It will give surprise to our side. And I don't think they know Bethany is travelling with us; so there's that, too.

"We have the advantage of time, although there's not much. I am going to need help with laying out traps, Zevran. Here—" She indicated a bridge linking Niemeier to a companion village. "—and here." Her hand grazed to the southern parts of the town. "We can't put them too near the traffic of the village. I don't want any traps going off and hurting any of the denizens, all right? I don't want to _kill _anyone, just make sure they're rendered incapable of following."

This broke the Antivan's stare as he switched to a smile for her. "But of course, my dear."

Fenris growled, low and guttural, a disclosure to his malcontent. Elesee, catching the tailwind, looked between the both of them with eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Just what are _his _plans after all of this is said and done and we've gotten away?" Fenris wondered of the champion, purposely not addressing Zevran to detract from his mounting irritation.

"I go where adventure takes me," the accented voice delivered in Elesee's stead. "And it seems as though Hawke has quite a bit of adventure in her."

Lips rising in irritation, Fenris found himself nearly baring a fang to the Antivan. Once more he had to chant the sentence over and over to keep a steady grip on his temper: _She has more important things to worry about. _But this time he tacked on: _Kill the Crow later._

Having finally cooled his anger and putting on a façade of tranquility, Fenris merely said, "Very well."

"Are you _sure _we can't go with them, Sebastian? I'd stay just to hear their candy-coated threats and pissing contests. Hmm… My bet's on Fenris." Isabela sized the two glowering men up, although Fenris's chest did swell a little with pride and triumph. Admittedly Zevran's skills had intimidated him, _just _slightly, and had him questioning after his own abilities, albeit briefly. But it was obvious to others that he could overpower the Antivan given the right circumstance. The day would be a happy one when it came to fruition.

"Did you see that look on the Brood King's face? New nickname… The Crow Killer."

"You know I need to return to Starkhaven and sort things out there," Sebastian reminded her, although he couldn't help the amused grin on his face even as he spoke.

"Ah, very well," Isabela ceded. "It was about time I gave up on Fenris anyway. Hawke got to him first. It's time for another challenge. Any bets on how long it will take for me to get into Sebastian's knickers? Boat rides can get pretty lonely."

The archer paled. "I took a vow of chastity."

Isabela's responding grin was feline and predatory. "And?"

"I'm going to have to go pray… and hide."

Having been done with the conversation long ago, Fenris stalked to the door so he could gather the items meant for their journey. If the gods be willing, he would be quick enough to avoid Elesee's remembering to have him disguised. There was no chance in the Void that he would allow himself to be dressed as a woman again.

Not in front of that sodding Zevran.

x

The sun sat fat and heavy in the sky, a lazy crawl into the horizon, and bathed the crags in a blanket of viscous orange, hot and thick as it fell in sheets over Niemeier.

The traps were easy enough to assemble but the placement had been trickier. Elesee had made sure that she'd directed Zevran to the correct areas of placement before tending to her own. He'd made it known he wished to work with her but she didn't want to press Fenris's growing displeasure with the company she kept. Besides that, she also wanted to be able to truly concentrate on her task rather than the assassin's distractions.

Once the traps had been assembled and placed precariously throughout the hot zones, Elesee reconvened with the group outside the tavern, a little sweatier than she had left. The others looked uncomfortable with the weight of the muggy heat setting the tensions even higher.

Elesee raised an eyebrow in both Sebastian and Fenris's directions. "I thought you were supposed to be in your disguises."

"We're going to fight alongside you, Hawke," Fenris replied, his green eyes simmering. "I will _not _stand by and watch you do all the fighting."

"And I will simply not let Isabela put me in that hideous outfit again." Memories of Sebastian's fashion farce had Elesee's breathing hitch as she tried to maintain a straight face.

"Where's Aveline?"

Zevran informed her that Aveline and Donnic had already left which, in turn, created a heated argument with Fenris. The warrior had asked for Zevran's bluntness to be set aside when informing Hawke of such important matters but Zevran argued that he felt she should know, sugar-coated or no.

_There's time to grieve later_, Elesee reminded herself as she stood by silently, watching the two argue. _I have to concentrate on the here and now. Keep moving forward. Papa's first rule._

Isabela cut into the fighting while pinching her shirt and pulling the cloth away from her body and allowing a breeze against her glistening caramel skin. "Tie me up and call me Fenris, 'cause I'm feeling downtrodden and you all are torturing me!"

A vein already throbbing in Fenris's angry red face twitched, his lips moving although no sound came out.

"Let us discontinue this squabble, for all that is good and holy, we have a grave task at hand," Sebastian requested albeit his miserable appearance which made the words demanding and annoyed. "You haven't been in our ranks long, Crow, and these are our last few moments together. Some respect." His 'please' was tacked on as an afterthought.

With a huffed 'fine,' Zevran marched off to Maker-knows-where to sulk.

"Now, now, I don't want things getting all emotional." Isabela made a sour face and waved away the thought like it was a bee pestering her. "It was a good time while it lasted, Hawke. I'll think about you two often. Preferably at night, in my bed, while—"

"Isabela, that's hardly appropriate," Sebastian admonished. His face rested in his open hand, covering up the annoyance Elesee heard coating his voice. He shook off the expression with a shrug and smiled at Elesee. "I know the Maker has many good things in store for you yet, Hawke. You've earned every moment of peace that is to come. Remember: 'The seed hath fallen from the Great Tree but the seed is only a fraction of the Tree; As man is of the Maker, so shall he return to the Maker's arms after he has spread his fruits and rested in the green earth.'"

Elesee scratched her fair brow and plastered on a fake smile for Sebastian's sake. "Um… thank you?" To Bethany, she whispered, "What the Void is he talking about?"

Her sister shook her head, clueless.

Looking utterly disgusted, Isabela told the archer pointedly, "Keep your seed talks away from where my intimate bits can here you." As if something had prigged her brow, the pirate's hand fell to her forehead. She groaned in pain.

"What is it? Are you hurt?" Elesee was on her feet, looking all around for the thing that had attacked the pirate. Nothing had stirred, save the churning of the hot air over some heads of grass. Fenris and Sebastian's movements imitated her own.

Bouncing up while cackling, Isabela crooned, "I get it now! The whole joke Zevran made earlier about frolicking. Fro_lic_… The word lick is in there! Gives a whole new light to the joke. Ha! And you said I was thick, Fenris. Serves you right." She beamed proudly while giggling over her new find. Sebastian shook his head in exasperation.

Unable to keep a small chuckle away, Elesee hid her mouth away from Fenris's scrutiny. His gauging her reaction only visibly irritated him more. He muttered something about the _Halla _droppings incident.

Inexplicably, something boomed and crackled like the rumbling of a thunderstorm. The sound echoed and was trailed by men yelling.

As quickly as the sound had gone off, Zevran reappeared, sprinting with both of his daggers in hand.

"They're here! From the west!" he shouted through bursts of air.

Fenris's pent up rage was a living thing as it burst through his markings. Usually quiet, his uncharacteristic roar stirred something feral in Elesee. Both her blades' enchantments blazed against the blue-white lyrium storm. She felt a small smile toy with her lips as the hairs all over her body stood on end with the magic of the shadow spell.

The others seemed to respond to his cry as well as they each readied their various weapons. They followed after Fenris's launch westward, except Elesee, who barely managed to keep pace beside him and his anger-driven run. Her injuries she'd sustained still ached as she'd had no time to recuperate.

They passed buildings so quickly they merely back dim orangey-brown blurs. Townsfolk screamed in terror or awe, either of which Elesee couldn't place, as the group cut through the village. Different from Kirkwall where onlookers chose to remain either silent or blissfully unaware with a turned face as a battle raged on right beside them.

Just bordering the outskirts of the town, the Templars were struggling to bypass the groups of traps Zevran had set. A few attempted to help the others that had fallen into the sticky goo that had slicked the ground and held whatever landed in its mess captive. Two fell in the substance themselves. Some sacrificed armor for freedom.

"I haven't seen this much goo covering men since the Hanged Man," Isabela commented as Fenris launched into the circle of surprised men.

"It's the Champion of Kirkwall and her minions!"

"Get her!"

"Kill them!"

Sounds of battle ensued shortly after. Metal zinging against metal or pounding against flesh. The crunching of bone and cries of pain.

Men struggled to lash out even as the traps pulled them even deeper into their embrace. Making sure to step out of their arms' lengths, Elesee crushed her weapon hilt first into a man's skull.

The light went out in his eyes as he fell into an unconscious heap onto the ground. _Screaming Wind _hurled through the air and caught a shield briefly before sheering it in half. She moved protectively around Bethany, who simply hurled her ice bolts to encase any nearby standing attacker.

Fenris was a violent fury of fists as he smashed faces into bloody pulps, blood already sprayed through his white hair and on his serene face. His gauntlets raked and rendered men incapable of raising arms or moving legs but his eyes kept shooting to Zevran before each attack, spurring the lyrium on that much further.

Elesee felt her brow crinkle in worry as she moved to his backside and caught the sword of a Templar with her dagger and looped _Screaming Wind _against the blade and twirled. The unnatural spinning motion made the man drop the weapon and Elesee grabbed his shield and bashed it against his brow.

Zevran helped stave off the men that launched towards Sebastian. The archer carefully pinned some of the Templar's armor to the ground or, in one case, a tree, a myriad of ironwood arrows wedged in between the chainmail links, then deep into the earth or the bark of the tree. The men struggled just to budge one of the ironwood arrows.

Isabela, trained in hand-to-hand combat, used her lithe form to outmaneuver some of the hulking armor-encased soldiers. She had her legs wrapped her legs around one of the Templar's heads, his face into her genitalia in what Elesee wondered for a flash was on purpose, and used the weight of her body to flip him into a tree. His head cracked against the wood.

They had surrounded the unorganized group and quickly and efficiently crushed the opposition.

"That was the remaining man," Zevran announced after dusting his hands clean of the grime coating his gloves. "One got away. Presumably to tell others of what has happened. We must make haste. This close to the Imperial Highway, the entire area will be swarming before morning."

A Templar groaned. Fenris sought the stirring man, found him, and stomped a foot into his head, sending him into unconsciousness once more.

"Is anyone hurt?" Elesee wondered, taking inventory of any injuries.

There were an assortment of murmured 'no's.

All appeared well.

Isabela had already looted the bodies strewn about. She mumbled about how Templar armor was too bulky to carry alone. At the last coin drawn, she turned to Hawke and smiled. "I guess this is it then. Thanks for all the money and laughs, Hawke. May the wind always be in your sails. It's probably the only emotional response you'll get out of me, okay?" The pirate turned to Fenris and grinned before throwing herself on him and pressing a big wet kiss smack on his lips. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

"Ugh," Fenris groaned and physically picked up the woman and threw her from him. Then immediately began scraping his tongue off with the sleeve of his under armor.

She rebounded from the landing with a laugh. "Well I guess I was wrong. I've made it kind of obvious how long I've wanted it. Maybe in another life I'll get you, Brood King. You'd be all smiles then." One last, brief wave and she wandered away towards the sea, her footsteps annoyingly light and cheery.

"Take care, the three of you. Maker guide your path," Sebastian uttered and followed suit.

Elesee's cerulean eyes followed after them, listening to their snippets of conversation floating back on the wind.

"When we get there we may have to travel on horseback." Unsurely spoken by Sebastian, who had never seen Isabela ride.

"I love mounting…" Isabela's laugh fluttered back just before the two figures disappeared from view along with their voices.

Bethany's hand was gentle on her shoulder. "No time to stand around, Sister. Let's go before more Templars come, or these ones wake up."


	14. Chapter 13

__**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: If you guys would like to see some Howling Ghosts visuals, feel free to visit ladylove . deviantart . com. Thank you very much for all your reviews, favorites, alerts, and any messages or feedback. I really appreciate each and every one.__

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><p><em>Wavering Resolve<br>_

The further south they traveled, the more the heat tapered off but seemed to dog their footsteps within the next hour. Despite the soupy air slowing their pace to a snail's crawl, they didn't dare make camp for the following three, long days. Finally, drawing near the Dales, Bethany's complaints grew insufferable.

The share of luggage she towed dragged along the ground behind her and the fabric finally caught on a sharp rock and spilled the contents all over the forest floor.

Outraged, hot, tired, and slightly delirious from lack of sleep, Elesee took a long look at the ground.

"I'm tired." Bethany threw out the excuse before her older sister could say anything, her voice tight and defensive. She took a step backwards at the seething glare shot her way.

"Didn't I _tell _you the bag would rip, Bethany? Now you've ruined a whole week of rations. Ruined!" The rogue hurled one of the fruits into the trunk of a mossy tree where it exploded on impact, sending juices flying in all directions.

"It's just a little dirt," the mage muttered too softly for her sister to hear.

"And _you're _the one who has gotten sleep while _we _stood guard. I'm just as tired as you, if not more so. _You're _not the one who was nearly killed _twice _in the past two weeks, once by her own sister."

The anger immediately recoiled at the flare of shame upon the words registering on Bethany's shocked face. Elesee made a sputtering attempt to apologize but the words had already hardened her sister's face.

"I already apologized and _you _said it was fine!"

Fenris stood behind Elesee, his arms folded across his plated chest. The metal was scorching against the tender flesh of his inner arm, but he ignored the pain to make his point clear. "Oh yes, let's just excuse your temper tantrum just because you're a mage and didn't mean to hurt anyone with your magic. Is that it?"

Elesee's face was animated when she turned to Fenris. "It has nothing to do with that Fenris! It's that she is being selfish—"

"As are all magi."

"Sometimes people cannot look past a harmless assassination attempt," Zevran said loudly to Bethany.

Elesee's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her face turning an unhealthy shade of purple as she looked between the three. She finally tossed her arms in the air and spewed out a long string of curses before stomping along the hillside towards a small nest of trees.

"Where are you going?" Bethany trilled.

"To get away from you and hunt up some damned food!"

The mage clapped her hands together and threw the empty knapsack against a pillow rock. "Yay! We get to make camp. I'll get the fire going!"

Fenris shot her an angry glare when flames streaked out of her fingertips. "It's already too hot out here and you want to make a _fire_? Are you asking for the Templars to find us?" He muttered a 'stupid girl' as he gathered the supplies for a tent from the bags.

"What is your problem with mages, my friend?" Zevran inquired innocently while watching the fellow elf work.

Elesee rolled her eyes as she could only imagine what Fenris's reply would be before the sounds clipped off with her long strides away.

Annoyance still zinged through her blood, hot and peppery. Her hands shook when she scaled a tree. Normally she would use her tracking skills to hunt down the prey but the anger was making her footfalls heavy and loud. The wildlife was sure to be scared away by a pissed off rogue flailing daggers angrily around without much precision.

Soon they would be in wild territory—Flemeth's territory—and she would have to kill the old witch as part of her oath. It begged the question of: how was she going to kill an immortal creature?

She sighed and dug her heels into the bark. What did her father used to tell Bethany when negative emotions were tainting her mood?

Elesee closed her eyes in concentration, willing her father's words to surface.

_'When you start to feel the darkness bring you in, stop everything—everything—find that little shining light in your memories to bring you home again. Whatever brings you the most peace and calm…'_

So… calm. That would be easy enough, right?

With her eyes open a slit she gazed heavenward to the swirl of cottony clouds bleeding out into the night and her mind wandered.

x

She was somewhere else. Somewhere cool and climate-controlled, as was most everything else in this place: a stale tepid that had her teeth set. Ferelden was either boiling hot or glacial in temperature, unlike this walled off city carved into the cliffs of the Waking Sea. Something about this stale, recycled air was starting to get to her.

"You don't look well, messere," Orana noted as she cinched the leather band through the last loophole in Elesee's corset. "Is there anything else I can get you today?"

Elesee raised a dismissive hand in a sweeping gesture. Most days her manners would dictate more civility towards her manservant, but the rigidity of the boned corset and the duties that were keeping her jailed, she felt her etiquette slipping.

"Master Fenris is waiting—"

"What have I told you about calling me that, Orana? I am nobody's master nor are you anyone's slave." Though he had cut the girl off his tone was not unkindly.

To make sure she was presentable, more for her lover than anyone else, she checked herself once more in the mirror before looking in his direction. He carried a large basket and was busy rummaging through its contents. The tendrils of white hair swept over his forehead, masking the weary look she knew was etched into his features. Or perhaps it was her sense of fatigue that had translated onto his face.

Orana made a grand, sweeping bow towards him on her way to the door. "I am very sorry, messere. I will try to do better next time."

"Will you do something for me Orana?" Fenris inquired.

"Yes." The response was immediate.

"You did not even stop to ask what the favor was."

Elesee found herself holding back a grin as the conversation had the same flavor as one they had held long, long ago. The smile faded into a sigh as she realized how long she had been stuck here in this home away from home.

Refocusing on the conversation, Fenris had one gloved hand extended towards Orana. Her eyes were wide at whatever Fenris had just said. She nodded and took the item in his hand and strode out of the room without another word.

"What did you just say to her?"

"I did not speak loud enough for you to hear. But—I'm surprised—usually you hear these things anyway."

"You know how I am, Fenris. Sometimes I don't even listen to myself as I'm off somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from this city and all its needy inhabitants."

His green eyes darkened and intensified the luminous stare. She knew he worried after her state as of late… Really, since the Chantry and Orsino, Meredith, no word of or from Bethany…

"I know, before you even say it. Please don't worry. I'm just—I am just pressured right now. I have so many duties I don't even have time to be standing here talking to you."

"Yes you do," he insisted, drawing closer to her. He settled the basket on the ground beside them as he stood with his breastplate rested against the thick corseted front of her dress. She tried to look away from his all-seeing stare but found herself immediately drawn right back into the haunting gaze.

"I really don't. I have a meeting with the—"

"Shh." His finger silenced any other words she may have uttered. He placed the gentle underside of his gloves against her cheek to draw her face back to his. His mouth was so soft against hers, the slightest brushing of skin against skin. Just enough to tickle. To draw a small fire through the stone that had filled her veins.

"I'm suffocating, Fenris."

For a moment she had thought the words but his responding nod revealed her having spoken the sentiment aloud.

"I know."

Elesee drew away from the sweetness in his voice, turned her back to him. She did not want him to see the terror that had filled her from the inside out. How afraid she was.

"The Divine is supposed to be here within the week. Rumor has it that she has plans on making me helm the war against the mages. And now, with the threats of Tevinter's wrath, I just—don't know. I don't want to deal with them or with the blighted Templars. Seekers have been petitioning to be let into Kirkwall for weeks now. I can't deal with this, on top of the situation with the Circle… and Bethany."

"I know."

His breath was cool on her neck, his hands steady on her shoulders as he simply held her. One arm snaked around her middle as he rested his defined chin on the base of her neck. She allowed herself to simply exist there beside him, a dust mote floating in the light of the sun.

Then, as every day since the city had enlisted Hawke as the Viscount, he suggested, "We could always leave." As he spoke he brushed his sculpted cheekbones along her neck. Some of the troubles of the day eked away with these tender touches.

"I've heard Orlais has great weather this time of year," Elesee joked, her hand only a half gesture in the direction of the dim gray rain pounding outside the window.

"Let's do it, Hawke. Go far away where these troubles will not ever touch us again."

"Fenris, I can't just—"

"You are as I was once. A slave kept in a crystalline kingdom. Eventually the glass shatters, Elesee, and you become something you were never meant to be: broken, a shell of your former self. I will not stand by idly and watch you break. Even if it is a slow process. I love you too much to see that happen."

He had never uttered the words, at least, not out loud. It was then that they began their plan to escape Kirkwall and the impending war with hopes of a better tomorrow.

x

And there it was.

The spark of light that had kept her spirit alive and strong. Having found the sense of joy and peace once more, Elesee opened her eyes to a bruised sky and found that her strength had renewed, her wavering spirit reinforced, and her resolve intact.

x

The remaining three had already assembled the makeshift camp in the hour Elesee had been gone.

Though sleep was a siren begging him to enter its singsong embrace, Fenris fought the ache with every intention upon staying away until he was sure Elesee had returned safely from her hunting expedition. This journey had far too many close calls for his liking.

His restlessness must have been a living thing as Bethany emerged from her tent to join him at the fireside. He would not admit his being glad Hawke's younger sister had the foresight to strike up the fire, but the temperatures had dipped severely low as the heat of the day had been leeched away by the night and he wriggled his calloused toes and let the fire work its warmth against the chill.

"This night is most beautiful," Zevran commented as he emerged from his tent.

"Oh, Maker!" Bethany gasped. "Zevran, put some clothes on!"

Fenris had already swung his head in the direction of the oncoming assassin, not trusting the man to his backside. The sight that greeted him was burned into his eyelids even after he immediately shut them: a Zevran completely exposed, save a pair of very scant braies.

Zevran took his time in slinking into the barren spot beside Bethany (he could only hear the fellow elf moving around, he took no measure of time to actually peer at the man's whereabouts any longer.) Having avoided the scene altogether, Fenris was unaware of Zevran's unnecessary show of flexing his muscles and shaking out invisible knots in his sheen of frothy blond hair.

Making sure to keep his eyes fixed to a point where he could not even see the slightest hint of a bare leg, Fenris scooted uncomfortably against the exposed dirt to where some of the luggage had been stowed. He withdrew a sharpening stone and a polish cloth.

"Ah, that is much better. Thank you for allowing me to sit here, _mea bella_. This reminds me of a different camp sitting around a different fire."

Fenris began to inspect and sharpen the Blade of Mercy's dulled points. His emerald eyes flashed dangerously when his eyes—unthinking—flicked to the Antivan's face. The look was noticed and returned, a challenge for a challenge. Hackles rose along the former slave's neck but a sadistic smile had crossed his features. In this light, the sparks zinged in a dazzling display from the metal meeting the stone.

Compared to muscles, this made a much better threatening exhibit.

But it was then that Fenris remembered the assassin's nakedness. Before the man could even allow the thought of trying to fight him with such little clothing, the warrior bested his pride and lowered his eyes.

Bethany sounded unsure when she said, "I just hope Elesee isn't still irritated with me when she returns."

It took Zevran a minute to respond, perhaps to be sure that the submission was genuine. "Do you want advice, _bella_? Before you get hurt, you must leave."

Incredulous, the mage demanded, "Why should I leave?"

"Because, in some time, the truth will come out. Your sister—she does not trust you. Nor will she ever. She will always believe you are going to kill her. Until, one day, she will be—what is it?—_confused? _No, _consumed_. She will be consumed with the thought."

Wanting to interlude, to tell the assassin he had best keep his opinions of Elesee to himself, Fenris threw down the grinding stone. He thought better of eyeing the half-naked man again and picked up the polishing cloth while, very quietly, grumbling to himself.

Bethany lowered her voice. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"Perhaps."

The soft smack of two delicate hands clapping together excitedly. "Ah, so the rumors are true! Zevran… you truly were at the side of the Warden? Is she as beautiful as they say she is? As daring? Did she really rip the heart out of the Archdemon and eat it?"

The assassin chuckled but there was no other response.

"You have all these stories and won't tell me the juiciest of them all? Why did you leave the Warden's side?"

Fenris shook his head. He could see the answer practically spelled out in front of Bethany's face. The girl, though having changed from Kirkwall, had still the aptitude of a child when it came to social interactions. Though he supposed he could claim no better.

"Oh, Zevran. No! You didn't! You tried to kill Nara? You tried to kill the Grey Warden!" Bethany's voice rose in tempo and pitch until it reached a shrill resonance that reverberated through his skull. "And you fell in love with her! Don't even try to tell me you didn't, I can see it right there on your face. The same puppy eyes Fenris gets around my sister. It's so romantic!

"Did she know? Is that why you couldn't kill her?"

"Well… She is very skilled." The Antivan was slow to answer, his voice stripped to an emotion Fenris had never would have placed on the man, given his personality. "I would say the _plan _to kill her was there…"

"Bah!" Zevran shouted and made Fenris jump and nearly slice his hand in half. The sword _clang_ed to the ground and the elf shot a glare in the Antivan's direction, not that he would have noticed. "I am done speaking of this. Anyway, what about _that _one and your sister? What is the story there?"

This time Fenris did look up and meet Bethany's chocolatey-orange eyes dead on, clashing with the embers of fire reflected in his incandescent glower. "I'd prefer you didn't."

A mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. Any chance the mage had at torturing him. Fenris hung his head, seething as the two continued the conversation despite his dispute.

"If this one is as… talented as he tries to claim—"

The former slave interjected hotly, "I never said—"

"—then why can't he defend his woman? She _did _mention earlier that she has nearly died twice in a short time. Is this correct?"

Fenris stood, his fists balled. Naked or no, he would kill this Antivan, even if it meant soiling his hands to do so. "This conversation is over."

Zevran appeared completely lax, not moving a single hairsbreadth, unthreatened by the elf's threat. The silvery eyes were on Fenris's face, challenging as he practically purred, "I also have made notice that he does not romance her. How has she fallen in love with this Brood King, dear Bethany? Does she not need someone a little more… cheery?"

Completely oblivious to the shaking warrior on her left, or the completely snide assassin to her right and the insurmountable rise in testosterone, Bethany recited, "Once my sister makes up her mind about something, it would take an act of the Maker to change her mind. My sister… she's very maternal, though she would never admit to it. She sees someone hurting, she makes them feel better. She sees someone wronged, she will be the hand of their vengeance. She sees someone dying, she will fight the Maker to keep their soul in place.

"So when she saw how Fenris was all alone in this world, she probably wanted nothing more than to be his friend. Elesee tends to see beyond the surface of what people want seen, all the armor and bullshit. Fenris had a lot of armor but she saw right into his sweet little puppy heart and, being a rogue, knew the exact right points in the armor that are weak and she exploits them. So it was easy for her to swing right in past all the blockades Fenris had in place and go right for the kill.

"Anyway! She is very patient so it was only a matter of time before: BOOM! But then Fenris left and there was this mage, Anders, and he was in love with her, too. She had entertained the notion at first of being with him but he was really crazy and—"

Fenris couldn't take anymore. "Enough! The past is the past. Let's keep it there."

Now the assassin drew his body up into a half-squat, bunching the muscles in his legs as if he were ready to spring. "So says the man who cannot relieve his own past."

"And you aren't?" Fenris shot back, his stance braced to take any impact of the elf's body impacting his own. "You claim to be all-knowing in the ways of romancing a woman, but look where you are now. Running from yours.

"Tell me," the warrior snarled, eyes blazing, "did Nara know how you felt before _you _left?"

"Did Elesee know before you left?"

The string of tension drawn to a thread, it finally snapped at that and Fenris had lunged for the Antivan before something very heavy _thnk_ed into the side of his skull. Stars swam in and out of his field of vision before he shook the fog away and righted his stumble. The rock that had been flung at his head still tumbled a little down a slope after having sailed off his skull.

"Fenris, what are you two doing? Didn't I tell you earlier we're not killing our guests?" Emerging from the shadows, Elesee flopped down a string of hares tied by their ankles. Her eyes were critical on Fenris's face and he felt shame for behaving as he had and—blight on everything!—letting the Antivan get to him _once more_. When would he learn? Her eyes went white-rimmed at noticing Zevran's lack of wardrobe. "For the love of Andraste, put some clothes on, Man!"

Unable to stand it any longer, Fenris placed a hand over Elesee's wrist. Such idle touches were becoming more familiar to him, but always he had the sense of dread in the back of his mind something terrible would happen if he touched her the wrong way. He swallowed down the fears rising to the surface and murmured, "We need to talk. Alone."

A hint of trepidation in her voice, Elesee said softly, "All right, Fenris. Let's get in the tent." To her sister she called, "Bethany, can you skin those rabbits up and make a stew? Don't even start to make a face. You were the one that ruined the food in the first place."

He followed her into the tent, knowing he would have to bear his mind once and for all.


End file.
